


Sleeping with Ghosts

by MilenaPandora



Series: Sleeping with Ghosts [1]
Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band), Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oldfic, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, RPF, Romance, Self-Harm, Substance Abuse, Suicidal Ideation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 105,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilenaPandora/pseuds/MilenaPandora
Summary: Soulmates never die...Yoochun and Jaejoong met in high school and their lives have been connected ever since. Beautiful, flighty, moody Jaejoong comes and goes, wreaking havoc in Yoochun's life, disregarding everyone and everything Yoochun loves. Will he ever stay? Or will he wander forever?(Chapters 1-26 posted 2008-2014 on LJ. WIP.)
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Kim Jaejoong, Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin, Kim Jaejoong/Park Yoochun, Kim Junsu (JYJ)/Lee Hyukjae | Eunhyuk, Kim Junsu (JYJ)/Park Yoochun, Park Yoochun/Shim Changmin
Series: Sleeping with Ghosts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831477
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A series of connected drabbles/ficlets. Not always in chronological order! Title and lyrics from the song _Sleeping with Ghosts_ by Placebo.
> 
> Written in 2nd person P.O.V.
> 
> First chapter posted February 2, 2008 on milena_1980@livejournal.com. Currently 26 chapters. Work in Progress. NOTE: I'm editing the fic as I post so some things may be different from the unedited version currently posted on LJ.
> 
> This fic was originally meant to span some four chapters, then took a life of its own and got away from me. I hold it close to my heart and I'm still working on it.
> 
> Additional note: Yes, I know. Things were much, much different in 2008, so different it's painful to even think about. The characters herein are based on the people who existed then.

_Soulmates never die…_  
  
 **Title: Broken**  
  
"Fix me," he whispers into your ear, his breath hot and shaky. You have never seen him like this, so weak and vulnerable. It has been weeks since the last time you saw him—dancing the night away at some club you never bothered to return to, not after the second you realized he had abandoned you there—and, as always, he has come back because he needs you. And, just like every other time, you are unable to say no.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?" You aren't surprised when your voice trembles and you feel hot tears running down your face. He shakes in your arms, his skin is cold, he's so thin his bones dig into you, and it hurts, oh, god, it hurts, and yet you can't find the strength to push him away.  
  
Suddenly, he cries, sobs wracking his frail body. "I'm so tired," he says, over and over again. His fingers dig into your arm, holding on for dear life, while you hold him, rocking him back and forth.  
  
There's nothing more you can do.  
  
  
 **Title: Fascination**  
  
"Girl trouble?"  
  
You look up, and there he is, looking down at you. You can't tell what he's thinking; somehow you know he's laughing at you. You would be, too, if you weren't the one whose heart was stomped on just minutes ago.  
  
 _I won't fall in love ever again_ , you promised yourself after she returned your ring and walked away without looking back.  
  
"You'll get over it," he promises, sitting next to you. You want to tell him to go away—what if anyone sees you sitting together? Everyone will think you're like _him_ and your reputation will go to hell—but you find you don't have the strength to utter a single word. Instead, you sigh, and glance at him.  
  
 _Kim Jaejoong_ , you have heard his name countless times. The fag. The loser. The guy who was held back last year because he was failing most of his classes.  
  
"Cigarette?" He offers, holding out one of those white cylinders you have never dared to try before. You find yourself reaching for it, and, as he lights it up for you, you look into his eyes for the first time.  
  
  
 **Title: Moment**  
  
"You're insane!" His only response is laughter as he pulls off his shirt.  
  
It's almost midnight, it's freezing, and your best friend has dragged you out of bed and to the beach on a school night.  
  
"Let's go skinny dipping!" he said as he drove away from your house. You thought about grabbing the steering wheel and forcing him to turn around, but, if there's one thing you have learned since that fateful day nearly a year ago, it's that Kim Jaejoong does what he wants, when he wants to, and not even the risk of death will deter him.  
  
"Come on!" he calls out. You look just in time to see him pull off his pants and underwear in one fell swoop. Jaejoong has no inhibitions, you are reminded once more, but, then again—you realize as you can't help but _stare_ —he has no reason to be ashamed of his body; he's perfect and beautiful and…  
  
He makes a weird warrior cry as he jumps into the water headfirst. When he finally comes up for air, his long hair sticks to his head and neck, and his jaw is shaking as he laughs and waves at you to join him.  
  
You strip, deciding you have no choice but to obey. The water is freezing—you think your balls may just shrivel and fall off—and you find yourself shivering, unable to make your mouth work. But then he's on you, pushing your lips together, his chest hard against yours, until you forget why this was such a bad idea.  
  
When he finally breaks the kiss, he looks into your eyes and grins like a maniac.  
  
"Happy birthday," he says, before kissing you again.  
  
  
 **Title: Taste**  
  
"Did that hurt?"  
  
He looks down at his chest, at the silver ring on his left nipple. The two of you are in the car, still wet and cold, and drinking cheap beer while listening to the radio. After your kiss just over an hour ago— _Your birthday present_ , he called it, smirking at you—you swam and played around like children before the cold wind forced you to seek shelter. Then he offered you a beer (you wondered how he acquired it, but you didn't ask), your first drink at age seventeen.  
  
"This? Nah," he finally answered, after what seemed like forever. "None of my piercings hurt."  
  
You immediately recall the several earrings (that you've always secretly envied) and the belly button piercing you had only seen a handful of times before tonight.  
  
"Your parents don't mind?" You regret the question almost as soon as you speak the words, but you're slightly drunk and very curious; you can't be expected to exercise self-control. He never speaks about his family; you imagine he must have a damn good reason for it, but you asked only once before—the way he closed up, lips becoming a thin, hard line, dissuaded you from ever doing it again.  
  
He doesn't answer. Instead, he changes the radio station until he finds a song he likes, and then he starts singing along. You can only watch him, listen to him, until he looks at you and smirks.  
  
This time, you kiss him first.  
  
  
 **Title: Fall**  
  
"Again," you whisper against his lips, and he grins as he pulls you closer.  
  
He tastes like heaven every time he kisses you. His skin is soft, but his chest is hard; his lips are sweet and open and yours. You didn't think anything would come out of that night at the beach, you're best friends and that should never change. The way he looks at you, though, betrays his heart, betrays yours, as well.  
  
You spend untold nights in the back seat of his car, discovering the way he tastes, the way he smells, the way he sounds when you touch him. The first time you take him, you cry—at the way he feels around you, the pure heat focused on one single part of your body making you shake all over (or maybe because you feel complete for the first time in your life). The first time he takes you, you give yourself away the moment he breaches your body. _Yours_ , you whisper, closing your eyes as he thrusts into you.  
  
Afterwards, you hold each other, you kiss until your lips hurt. And you've never been happier than the moment when he looks at you, eyes shining with unconcealed emotion.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Tears**  
  
"What would you do if I died?"  
  
Your bedroom is dark, and it's raining outside, heavy drops hitting the window panes with surprising violence. He came over tonight unexpectedly—your father doesn't seem to like him, but you don't really care—and made you lie down in bed with him, lean arms holding you close to his body.  
  
The question catches you off guard; you stare into his dark eyes, looking for something, anything that can reveal to you why he would even ask such a thing. He hasn't really been himself the past few weeks; as always, he won't tell you anything. You hate his silence, but you understand that some things are best left unsaid.  
  
"What do you think?" you ask instead.  
  
He meets your eyes, and, somehow, you expect sadness, tears, or just any emotion.  
  
Instead, you find nothing.  
  
  
 **Title: Restless**  
  
"I'll see you at school tomorrow!"  
  
He doesn't come to school, but you're not surprised. Jaejoong has quite a few character flaws, one of them being a complete and utter disregard for responsibility. It's the reason why he's close to failing again this year. You wish he would pay more attention to school and other important matters instead of whether his favorite band has a new CD or if his favorite boots are on sale. That's Jaejoong for you, though, and you don't think you would like him any other way.  
  
No one answers the phone when you call him that night. Again, not a surprise. He lives with his parents—both teachers, you found out by chance one day—and three sisters out of eight. Despite the ridiculous number of people living in what has to be one of the most cramped places you've ever seen, there's rarely anyone home. You fall asleep early, knowing he will call you whenever he feels like it.  
  
Another day passes, and again you call, but no one answers. Suddenly, you wonder if maybe you dreamed the previous day and this is just a coincidence, but, no, the calendar clearly says today is Thursday, and you know you watched your favorite TV show yesterday (Jaejoong hates your love for dramas; again, you ignore him). You feel worry set in the pit of your stomach; you dismiss it, sure that it's all in your head.  
  
You return to his house after school on Friday. Again, it's empty. This time you sit outside to wait.  
  
No one comes home.  
  
  
 **Title: Light**  
  
"Wanna go see a movie tonight?"  
  
You sigh, turning to your left to look at your new self-proclaimed best friend. Kim Jaejoong— _Call me Hyung!_ —hasn't left you alone since the day your ex-girlfriend broke your heart. He's strange— _I think eccentric sounds better, don't you think, Yoochunnie?_ —and persistent, which is why you stop pushing him away after the third time he follows you home.  
  
"So, what do you say?" He gives you that annoying smirk and you know what you'll say in the end. Jaejoong likes to play the innocent card, but you know, just by the way he looks at you, that he's anything but; this is never more evident than when he wants something from you.  
  
"Don't you have anything better to do than pester me?"  
  
He knows you're not serious, of course, and he laughs, briefly closing his eyes and covering his mouth like he's wont to do.  
  
"Of course not," he replies after he's finally able to breathe again. "Don't you know I live only for you?"  
  
  
 **Title: Pieces**  
  
"What are you doing here? "  
  
A female voice startles you awake. When you look up, you find one of his sisters looming over you. She looks pale, tired, and maybe somewhat annoyed.  
  
"Looking for Jaejoong hyung."  
  
Four days have gone by since the last time you saw him; three days you have come and sat outside his house to wait for him, or _anyone._  
  
She sighs, briefly closing her eyes, pressing her lips together. She's pretty, yet dramatically different from your best friend (you briefly wonder why Jaejoong barely looks anything like his sisters), and you can't help but admire her for a full five seconds before she opens her mouth again.  
  
"He's not here," she says, and swallows, hard. "You can't see him now."  
  
You barely register her words; when you do, your heart fills with pain and anger. Where is he, you want to ask. Where has he gone?  
  
"Go home." She chokes and her eyes fill with tears. "He'll call you when he's able to, all right?"  
  
She goes into the house before you can reply.  
  
  
 **Title: Running**  
  
"Yoochun!"  
  
You've been staring at the dark ceiling for what seems like ages. Eight days have passed since the last time you saw him, and you don't know what to do. You go to school, you come home early, and do your homework; your father smiles at you when he comes home from work, and you eat dinner together (or, at least, you try). In a way, it feels like you have stopped living, like he's gone and there's _nothing_ left for you. You tell yourself you're being melodramatic, but, somehow…  
  
"Yoochun!"

There's a sharp knock just below your window. Your heart jumps and you rush to open the drapes and look outside. _He_ is here! It's all you can think of as you run outside, barefoot and half-naked.  
  
He stumbles slightly when you run into his arms, holding him tight around his middle. There's something different about him, though, but you can't tell what it is, not when your eyes are blurry with tears that keep falling with the thought that he's here, real, _safe_.  
  
"Yoochun," he whispers against your hair. "Yoochunnie, I need you to look at me."  
  
You force yourself to look at him, at his gaunt and pale face and his night-dark eyes. His appearance shocks you; when you try to pull away, he touches your face, holding you close.  
  
"I need to go."  
  
You stare at him, confused. "But you just got here…"  
  
"I need to leave or I'm going to go crazy." He doesn't let you reply, only kisses you, hard, deep, and lets go of you. Then he leaves you, stripped of his warmth, feeling naked and abandoned. You can only watch as he gets into a car—with some guy you've never seen before, in a car you're sure is not your best friend's—closes the door and leaves.  
  
He doesn't look back once.  
  
  
 **Title: Spent**  
  
"What do you want to do after you finish school?"  
  
He asks the question at least once every week and you answer like you always do.  
  
"University, business school." It's what your parents want for you; they're the ones paying for your education, so it's not like you have much say in the matter.  
  
He scoffs, rolling his eyes and rolling off the bed. It's almost seven at night, your father will be home soon. Jaejoong never stays long enough—"Disrespectful," he started saying after you started having sex in your room, never mind that he always left early before—a fact you hate with every fiber of your being.  
  
"What a waste!" This time _you_ roll your eyes. "You should study music. All that talent going into business school? Bah!"  
  
"What about you?"  
  
Now he grins at you—his head disappears briefly as he pulls on his t-shirt—giving you that smirk that you hated so much once upon a time. He comes up to you and sits on your stomach (he's heavy, but you don't dare tell him), bends down to give you a lingering kiss. It leaves you wanting more (like always); however, you're forced to watch as he gets up and blows you a kiss in the air.  
  
"I guess you'll just have to wait and find out, won't you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Nightmare**  
  
 _I need to leave or I'm going to go crazy._  
  
The words replay in your head over and over again. You try to find clues in your memories, anything that would enlighten you as to what he meant.  
  
However, as each scene replays in your head—with amazing color and accuracy, you find—you realize that, for all that you called him your best friend for the good part of a year and eight months, you never really knew him.  
  
Where did he go those random days he didn't come to school? Or those weekends he didn't call? You remember the guy he left with— _Who the fuck_ **is** _he?_ —and you wonder, for the millionth time, your heart beating so fast you want to die, who is Kim Jaejoong.  
  
  
 **Title: Charm**  
  
"Rough day?"  
  
It's three in the afternoon when you finally get out of class. University is much harder than you anticipated, with long-faced professors (sadists) who think each of their classes is the only one in your schedule. You haven't made friends and you know nothing about the local scene; nights are spent in your tiny rented apartment, reading and writing reports—on statistics and math and that creative writing course you thought would be so much fun—and forcing yourself to keep your eyes open _one extra hour_ to meet with their demands.  
  
At least you don't have time to _think_.  
  
Tired and hungry, you trek over to the coffee shop just outside campus. You have been there a few times, but you never look at anyone, much less talk, so you're surprised when someone stops next to you and speaks. When you look up, your voice catches in your throat.  
  
"Kim Junsu," he says, smiling, and such a beautiful smile it is, bright and honest and… He tilts his head to the side when you don't react. "We have Creative writing together."  
  
Creative writing…?  
  
"Oh! Yes, of course." On impulse, you invite him to share your table; he accepts, saying a soft thank you and taking the seat across from you.  
  
You talk about classes and your professors and majors. He's a music major, singing and piano, and his teachers sound just as cruel as yours.  
  
"I like it, though," he says, grinning, and you believe him.  
  
Over two hours later, he walks you home—you don't want to leave him, but you have a test tomorrow and one hour of studying just won't cut it. Just before he leaves, however, he stops you and asks you to meet at the coffee shop again tomorrow.  
  
You say yes.  
  
  
 **Title: Cold**  
  
 _What are you thinking about?_  
  
Sometimes you hate the winter, you hate the memories—of lazy afternoons lying in bed, your head on his shoulder, his voice sweet and real as he sang along the stereo—that come with the cold winds and the gray skies. At the same time, your heart fills with dread at the thought of forgetting him. Now you wonder if that wouldn't be for the best.  
  
"Oh, nothing." You smile at the man beside you, your heart leaping when he smiles back. You like everything about him: his short dark hair and bright brown eyes that reveal him to the world; you like the way he smiles and his laugh, so peculiar, special, like him.  
  
When he sings, you close your eyes and _feel_. He never hides his feelings, and when he opens his mouth and you hear the first note, you imagine he's baring his heart to you (you wish you could do the same).  
  
His kisses taste like sunshine, brightening the darkest spaces within your soul so easily you sometimes wonder if he isn't an angel. When you fall asleep in his arms, you feel warm and safe.  
  
You used to think you would never love again—like that day when she gave back your ring—but when you're with Junsu, you know that, even if you don't quite love him yet, you could.  
  
  
 **Title: Freedom**  
  
"I hate you."  
  
He rolls his eyes and you know he's thinking _Yeah, right_ , which only annoys you further. It's three in the morning and, for some reason, Jaejoong has, once again, dragged you out of bed. You're too tired to ask why, though, and you slump in the passenger's seat of his rusty old car and doze, focusing on the sound of his voice as he sings along some Pop song on the radio.  
  
The car stops sometime later—minutes or hours, you're not sure and you don't care—you hear a click and then he's moving to the back seat while pulling on your sleeve. You move slowly, forcing your limbs to obey your commands; you haven't yet gotten comfortable when he's on you, all lips and tongue and teeth, and, suddenly, you're not so sleepy anymore.  
  
His hands are cold when they slip under your shirt and slide up to touch your chest. You can feel his lips widen in a smile when you jump, yelping into his mouth, but he makes you forget soon enough, reaching to undo the front of your jeans.  
  
Not long after, his hand on your erection, your hand on his, pumping with absolutely no sense of rhythm, your lips sucking on the soft skin behind his ear, you decide you don't want this moment to ever end. You love the way he feels—around you, within you, his skin against yours, his lips pressed to yours—the sound of his voice, his warm breath and the barely audible whine he lets out just as he comes. It's this last one that pushes you over the edge unexpectedly; you close your eyes and just _feel_ , until, finally, it fades, leaving only wetness and racing heartbeats.  
  
"Sorry," he apologizes as he helps you clean up.  
  
"What for?" He doesn't answer. The sound of zippers and the creaking of the old leather seats fills your ears as you wait, watching as he pushes the dirty tissues under the front seat. He moves to sit next to you right afterward, as close as he's able, nearly sitting on your lap, and leaning his head on your shoulder. It isn't long before you close your eyes, the scent of his hair and the sound of his breathing lulling you to sleep. Life, you think, couldn't be more perfect.  
  
  
 **Title: Deal**  
  
"Yoochun".  
  
His voice is soft, his breath warm on your ear. You're surprised that he's here, lying in bed with you at who knows what time of night. He touches your face and it's only then that you realize you're crying.  
  
"You were dreaming," he tells you, gently. You were: you can recall the image of his retreating back—no, you don't want to think about _him_ , you don't want to remember how your heart shattered when he left.  
  
Junsu opens his arms and you let him hold you close, your legs twining under the covers. It's not the same—it will _never_ be the same—but you take what you can get from this man who has given himself to you so freely.  
  
He hums a song, the sound soothing your nerves, slowly killing the ache that should have already faded. As you fall back into sleep, you think you hear your lover sigh and whisper _I love you_ into your ear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: Clouds**  
  
"What do you think happens after you die?"  
  
You snort, turning to look at him. He's still looking up at the sky—it was his bright idea to go to the park and lie on the grass to cloud-gaze. So far, you aren't bored ( _This is so pointless_ ). Just being there with him is enough—even if he _is_ crazy.  
  
"I dunno. Go to Heaven?"  
  
He sighs, then turns to look at you. He looks sad, he often does, but you never ask. _It's not my business_ , you think, he'll tell you if he wants to.  
  
"My father thinks we just fade away."  
  
You hum, considering the theory. When you were a child, you learned about Heaven and Hell; you've never had a reason to doubt your mother's words. Therefore, you can reach only one conclusion.  
  
"He's wrong."  
  
He stares at you for a long moment, large eyes dark and unreadable. Just when you're about to open your mouth to ask why he keeps staring, he surprises you, his lips widening in the happiest and most beautiful smile you've ever seen.  
  
He goes back to gazing at the clouds. You only gaze at him.  
  
  
 **Title: Dream**  
  
"Come on, it's not even that much."  
  
It's nearly four in the afternoon and you have just said goodbye to Junsu outside the coffee shop. You begged him to come over today, but he has an essay due tomorrow.  
  
"Business before pleasure," he always says, wiggling his eyebrows and making you laugh. You can't help but love his easy nature and sense of humor; he says he loves that you'll always laugh, no matter how lame his jokes— _"_ _Silly Yoochun."_  
  
You feel giddy and content as you watch him cross the street toward his apartment. Once he's out of sight, you turn around, ready to go on your way, when you hear _him._  
  
"Five-hundred? What, you think I'm made of money?" someone says; as you turn around, you see them, maybe four or five men, two of them leaning against a wall. Not one of them resembles him, though—you don't see his night-black hair and pale skin. _Stupid_ , you berate yourself, _still hoping, after all this time?_  
  
"I'll make it worth your while," and it's in the way he speaks, like in those times in the back of his car, that breathy tone that could make your knees buckle.  
  
"Jaejoong?"  
  
The name is out before you can stop it. Immediately, they all look at you.  
  
And you _see_ him.  
  
  
 **Title: Bereft**  
  
"You've barely changed."  
  
You can feel him studying you from across the table. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you found each other outside the coffee shop, when your eyes met and you recognized him instantly. Sitting with him now, you realize his long black hair—now a dark blond—isn't the only thing that has changed.  
  
"You've changed a lot," you reply as you hold your cup of black coffee. You're back inside the coffee shop, his "friends" disappeared almost as soon as he left them, so you invited him in for something to drink, or anything, really. However, the moment you sit down, you _know_.  
  
He pouts, his cheeks hollowing strangely. He's too thin, you realize, his collarbone protruding just a bit too much, his shirt hanging on him a few sizes too large. There's something about him, something dark, something he always had, except now…  
  
"Aren't you happy to see me?" You smile and you hate yourself for it. What was that you promised yourself after you finally accepted that he was gone? _Never again…_  
  
"Yes," you reply, "very much."  
  
Maybe an hour later, after meaningless conversation, you end up inviting him over to your apartment. He just follows, walking right next to you and talking, about everything and anything, and for a moment you even feel like you've gone back almost two years in time and you're walking home from school together. The illusion breaks soon enough, when you finally reach your door and you slide in the key.  
  
He looks around the small place— _Wow, you're all grown up now_ —remarking on this and that— _You really have to read all this shit?_ —eyes wider as he takes it all in. You only sit and listen and watch. You don't know what else to do.  
  
  
 **Title: Trap**  
  
 _Where have you been?_ The question burns in your mind, yet it remains stuck in your throat, no matter how many times you try to ask. _Where did you go? Why did you leave me?_ Somehow you know he would not answer—you doubt he has changed that much.  
  
He has commandeered the couch—"Hey, do you think I could crash here a few days?"—the small TV, even the kitchen. His things are everywhere even though he's been with you only two days.  
  
"I'll get out of your hair as soon as I get some stuff straightened out, Yoochunnie," he promises, his smile a shadow of what it used to be. You're awkward around him, but if he notices, he gives no indication; no, he talks and acts as if you had never been apart. You don't know how to feel about that.  
  
Truthfully, though, you don't really mind that he has invaded your life so callously. He's still your friend, and you know you'll always be there for him no matter what.  
  
At least, that's how you feel.  
  
Until he meets Junsu.  
  
You don't hear when someone knocks on the door, and so you're painfully oblivious to the scene playing out in your living room. Once you come out, drying your hair with a towel after a much-needed shower, the world stills around you.  
  
Junsu is standing at the door, visibly surprised at the sight of a shirtless Jaejoong. The older man, in turn, is leaning against the door, eyes trained on your lover. You haven't told Junsu about Jaejoong, though you're not sure why. Inside, you know you don't have a reason to feel guilty, and, yet…  
  
But then you notice the way Jaejoong looks him up and down, his tongue peeking between his lips, head tilted slightly. You know that look all too well.  
  
"Junsu!" Your lover smiles at your sight, leans forward to peck your lips when you walk up to him. You can feel your old friend watching as you hug, as you ask how he is. Junsu gives you a smile tainted with worry (and jealousy, perhaps?), but you only give him your widest, most reassuring smile.  
  
And you know that he believes you.  
  
  
 **Title: Friendship**  
  
"So, Yoochun tells me you're childhood friends."  
  
Breakfast is a tense affair. Jaejoong has barely smiled or spoken since you left the apartment, but you don't know why (though you _hope_ so badly it hurts). Instead, he watches Junsu, but the singer doesn't seem to notice.  
  
"We are."  
  
Afterward, you and Junsu make up most of the conversation, and Jaejoong listens, slowly drinking his coffee and eating his breakfast like he has all the time in the world. By the time you realize you need to go to class or risk being late, Junsu's already out the door and running to his own class.  
  
"He's cute," he says. His words make you forget what you wanted to say (you wonder if he's sincere).  
  
"He is." It's all you say, before you give him a key to the apartment and run away as fast as you can.  
  
That afternoon, you spend a few hours at Junsu's—sharing kisses while trying to study—then come home just in time for dinner. You haven't stopped thinking about your friend— _How is he? What is he doing? Has he eaten?_ —and you feel like an idiot for it (at least you're not too afraid to admit it).  
  
When you open your door, and you turn on the lights, you wish you hadn't come home at all.  
  
He moans loudly as he thrusts forward, pale legs wrapped around his waist. The couch creaks with each motion (you feel ridiculous when you worry that they'll break it), his back arching, skin glistening under the dim lights. Two voices intermingle, moans, grunts, unintelligible words, a male voice you don't recognize grating on your nerves. Five seconds, five minutes, you have no idea, you only know that you stand there and do nothing.  
  
Somehow, you leave, you retrace your steps back, until your lover opens his door—"Yoochun, what did you forget this time?"—but when his smile falters and he reaches out to grab your arm to pull you inside, when he wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, you finally realize what just happened.  
  
What's that you had promised? Never again?


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Bare**  
  
"Sing for me."  
  
He's lying next to you on your bed, his head on your shoulder. For such a strange and independent guy (in your opinion), you find he needs way too much physical comfort. Sometimes it gets annoying, and you complain, but he never listens to you—when does he?—covering you like a blanket, his clothes rough, bare patches of skin soft and warm and…  
  
"I can't sing," you lie, staring up at the ceiling. Night is slowly falling, everything looks gray around you, but you're too lazy (too comfortable) to get up and turn on the lights.  
  
"Of course you can. I've heard you."  
  
He's smirking when you turn to look at him, but, (you feel stupid when you think about it later) the sight of his lips halts your question. It has been only weeks after your first kiss, and you still can't get enough of that mouth that brings you no end of annoyance and nonsense. Even right now, you just want to lean forward and feel his soft lips and wet tongue and… But, wait, didn't he say something just now?  
  
"When the hell did you hear me singing?" There are only a few possibilities. The thought of him listening to you while you pour your heart out makes your face go red. Jaejoong isn't stupid, though.  
  
"Sing for me!"  
  
Sadly, if anything can render you useless at his feet—not unlike his wicked, wicked smirk—it's that needy, breathy tone he uses nowadays when he _really_ wants something.  
  
So you sing.  
  
  
 **Title: Silence**  
  
"So, he just up and left?"  
  
That night, you struggle to stop crying, to stop replaying the scene—of _him_ , thrusting forward, _fucking some guy on my fucking couch_ —over and over in your mind. Junsu cannot understand your pain, but he doesn't question your silence, only gives you what you need. You fall asleep in his arms, hanging on to him with everything you have, thanking the very universe that _he_ is there for you.  
  
In the morning, you apologize to him, tears running down your face. Junsu only smiles worriedly, drying your tears and kissing your lips before you leave.  
  
Then you walk home, feet heavy, your heart beating painfully, you climb up the stairs and open your door. You expect to find clothes and toiletries in a heap by the couch, his magazines on the coffee table; bottles of beer lying empty on the floor. You think you will find him and confront him, and you will fight, maybe yell, because you need to scream at him, maybe hit him, for all the times you lay awake at night wondering where he was, if he was dead, if he loved you or hated you or _anything at all_.  
  
Upon pushing the door open, you find something else.  
  
The living room looks clean and tidy; the dishes that previously overflowed the sink are washed and put away; there's nothing on the floor, nothing on the furniture, nothing but what you owned before _he_ came back into your life.  
  
You don't find a note, or a phone number, nothing to even indicate that he was ever there in the first place. At first, you feel worry, then relief, then sorrow, a thousand feelings hit you mercilessly, punching at you, at your heart, until you can do nothing but cry, huddled in a corner of your tiny living room.  
  
Junsu finds you there, hours later, asleep on the floor.  
  
Now, you're in your room, on your bed, your head on his chest. You feel his heart beating against your face as he strokes your hair, slowly soothing away the pain, helping you forget.  
  
Still, you say nothing.  
  
  
 **Title: Bleeding**  
  
 _"Girl trouble?"_  
  
You're supposed to be taking notes, numbers and formulas and problems you know you won't remember unless you start paying attention. The professor drones on and on, his back to the class, the dust of white chalk marring his perfectly pressed black jacket. You can hear the girl next to you whispering and laughing, but you can't even bring yourself to be amused.  
  
 _"You'll get over it."_  
  
Promises, only promises. You want to say _I will_ , and really believe it, you want to look at yourself in the mirror, ignore your tired, empty eyes and _promise_ yourself that this isn't the end of the world, you already went through this once before. What does it matter if he abandoned you again ( _he didn't even say goodbye this time_ ), leaving no clue as to where he was going or who with? You wish you had stayed that night and pulled them apart, you wish you had forced him to tell you who that guy was, where did they meet? _Do you love him?_  
  
 _"Where did you go? Why did you leave me?"_  
  
You feel seventeen again and you hate it so much you could scream.  
  
 _"I need to leave or I'm going to go crazy."_  
  
You never asked, never even tried. _What are you running away from?_ What does it matter now, anyway?  
  
 _"Aren't you happy to see me?"_  
  
You even thought you saw a spark of the old Jaejoong when he asked that question. For the first time in years, you felt… real, normal… complete.  
  
You sigh, tapping your pen on the edge of your table. _I need to get over him._ Your life is slowly falling apart again, you can barely get out of bed, you barely eat. This can't go on. It's time to let go.  
  
  
 **Title: Fear**  
  
"Harder."  
  
He grunts, moving to please you, hands on the back of your thighs, shifting until he can fuck you harder, deeper. You can only moan, close your eyes, focus on the feeling of him inside you, your body open and willing.  
  
"Yoo…chun." You love the way he moans your name, the way he grunts with every push forward. Then again, what don't you love about him? You love his slim and athletic body, the way he smells (you even bought a bottle of the cologne he wears every day just so you could smell him during those cold nights you spent apart during finals) his soft hair, the way his dark eyes shine when he smiles; you love the way he sounds, his unique laughter, and how he can embed his feelings into any song.  
  
He groans louder—he's close, you know by that sound alone. You reach down to grab your erection—you're close, almost there—trying to focus on him, trying to push away everything but the way he feels inside you. _This is what I want_ , you think to yourself, trying to forget, doing your best to… _This is_ who _I want_.  
  
Suddenly, he bucks forward, losing all sense of rhythm, and you _know_ , the moment he comes, when he cries out so beautifully you want to open your eyes and look at his face, at his closed eyes, his open mouth, lips so red you want to lean forward and catch them in a deep, wet kiss. And you want to, oh God, you want to, so much, but you can't, because you _know_ what will happen if you do, and you don't think you could bear it if you lost this, too. But still, you let go.  
  
He's there, holding you, when you come back to reality, arms around your waist.  
  
But you can't feel him anymore.  
  
  
 **Title: Open**  
  
"You're such a crybaby."  
  
You want to glare at him, but the tears blur your sight, and you only cry harder. You hear him sigh—you know he's rolling his eyes at you, "This is why I hate going to the movies with you." Regardless, he grabs your arm and leads you into the men's room.  
  
"It's just a movie," Jaejoong argues. _You're heartless_ , you want to reply—how can he not be moved by the sight of the poor guy waiting hours and hours at the train station, thinking the girl he loves has stood him up, unaware that, at the very same time, she's dying? And… and…  
  
"What the… ? Yoochun, get a fucking grip!"  
  
He laughs when you try to hit him and fail. It's not like you aren't trying to calm down. What can you do if you're sensitive instead of cold and unfeeling like him? If he would just let you cry in peace, at least…  
  
You don't expect him to tug at your arm and pull you along somewhere. It's not until your back hits cold metal and you hear the telltale click, that you realize he has pushed you into a stall.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Shh!" And then he shuts you up with a kiss. You hate that he can disarm you so easily, but what can you do? The way he makes you shiver with a word or a touch, why would you even want to resist him?  
  
He laughs softly against your lips, sliding his arms around your waist. The place smells, you think you've stepped on a piece of toilet paper, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.  
  
"A little more participation would be much appreciated," he whispers. You snort, but slide your arms over his shoulders, pulling him as close as you can.  
  
Maybe you can forgive him this time.  
  
  
 **Title: Want**  
  
"I want to break up."  
  
Why is it, you wonder, that bad things always happen at night? Even in the fairytales, or in those Horror films Junsu enjoys so much, the big, evil villain always hits his victim when the world is in shadow. It allows for the element of surprise, perhaps?  
  
"I know."  
  
His decision isn't sudden, you saw it coming for months, ever since…  
  
"I wish… I really thought we were going somewhere, you know? I thought, 'Hey, I could really spend the rest of my life with this guy.'"  
 _  
_"Junsu…"  
  
His breath shakes as he moves to lean his head on your shoulder, slipping his arms around your waist. You always fit so well together, almost since the beginning. You thought this could be forever, too.  
  
"Promise me we'll always be friends."  
  
Your breath hitches as you scoff softly.  
  
"You're breaking up with me, but still you want… ?"  
 _  
_"Just promise me."  
  
His tears are soaking your shirt— _How could I make you cry?_ —yours are soaking your hair. Life will be different when you wake up tomorrow. Again. You hate change, you hate uncertainty. Then why do you love your elusive villain instead?  
  
You sigh, holding him closer.  
  
"I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: Blush**  
  
"Good morning!"  
  
He waits for you at the usual spot, wearing his usual smile. There's nothing different about the way he puts his arm around your shoulders and leads you; when he opens his mouth to start his daily rant about the world—but never about himself—you tune him out, even as he talks about the Biology project, and how his partner, Kang-whoever, "must be the dumbest guy to ever walk the earth."  
  
You cross the school gates together, you receive the same weird glances as every day; you hear the whispers— _Sangmin says they're a couple!_ —the rumors people have loved spreading about the two of you ever since you became friends. Normally, you ignore them—why should you listen to stupid rumors?—but today, you hear them louder than ever— _I heard someone saw them kissing up on the roof_ —their words making your heart beat faster in fear, because, really, they're not just rumors anymore.  
  
 _Or are they?_ The thought crosses your mind more than once. You can still recall the feeling of jumping into the water just a couple of nights ago, of his arms around you, his warm chest pressed to yours; you can still taste his lips, his tongue, still feel his fingers combing through your hair after you kissed him in the car.  
  
Yet, Jaejoong treats you as if nothing happened. You hate how this makes you feel: three days ago, kissing him was just a thought, the whim of a hormonal teenager; now you want to kiss him so badly you think you'll explode if you don't do something soon.  
  
You suppress your frustration all during morning classes, and during lunch, when you eat together while he tells you about some movie he wants to see. You answer his seemingly innocent smiles, you answer his questions when he asks about some verb in English.  
  
Once the last bell rings, you finally accept reality. _It meant nothing_ , you think, over and over, your eyes becoming blurry with tears. How could so much change in such a short time?  
  
"Why do you look so sad?" You only shrug, mentally beating yourself up when your heart speeds up as he slips his arm around your shoulders.  
  
You're not surprised that he comes home with you. It's convenient—your father works until late sometimes, and you can always do whatever you want until he gets home. He follows you up to your room, like he always does; he throws his backpack next to the bed and takes off his jacket. You expect to hear music—he always turns on the radio when you get home—soon followed by his soft voice trying to imitate the many singers he so admires.  
  
You don't expect it, however, when he grabs your arm, turns you around and kisses you. It's just like you remember: soft lips and pure feeling, his arms snaking around your waist. He grins as you break apart, eyes shining mischievously.  
  
"What?" You love the feeling of his warm breath on your lips. It's so entrancing you almost miss his words entirely, watching as his eyes darken, burning into your own.  
  
"You didn't think that was a one-time thing, did you?"  
  


  
 **Title: Troubled**  
  
"Are you eating well?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you need more money?"  
  
"No, I'm fine. Really, Mom, you don't have to worry."  
  
"I'm your mother. It's my job to worry." She laughs softly, but you can still hear the way her breath hitches. "Your father told me you've started sending out job applications."  
 _  
_"It's just a few months before I graduate. No harm in starting early, is there?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
You want to ask after your brother, but Yoohwan has barely spoken to you since your parents divorced and stupidly decided to separate you. You still haven't forgiven them for it.  
  
"So, how are things over there?"  
  
You lean back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling while she tells you about this and that and your cousin who got married last year already expecting a baby. _I care_ , you think to yourself, _this is family, this is important_. But, somehow, you tune her out, listening with barely half an ear. You think about your own life, about how disappointed your parents will be when they find out you won't ever get married nor give them grandchildren. A selfish part of you thinks _Hey, they've got Yoohwan_ , but, really, they do have him, even if they've set all their hopes on you, their precious older son.  
  
Some days you wonder what life would be like if Jaejoong hadn't left. Would you have told your parents about your relationship? Would they love you despite it?  
  
It doesn't matter though. You haven't seen him in a year and ten months (though it feels like so much longer), and you doubt you will again.  
  
"Are you there, Yoochun?"  
  
You sigh, closing your eyes.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
  


 **Title: Test**  
  
"Yoochunnie!"  
  
You jump at the sound of his voice. It takes you back years ago, when you were still in high school and he was your world. Today, years later, you want to be angry at him, for disappearing so abruptly nearly two years ago. However, you can only stare as he approaches you, still thin, hair dark again, but smiling in that way that makes you believe you're the most important being in the universe.  
  
"I've missed you." He sounds drunk, but you're not surprised—it _is_ a nightclub, one of the most popular among the student body. You and Junsu come here occasionally, mostly on Junsu's urging—you can't dance, unfortunately—but you grab a seat at the bar and get drunk if you have enough money to waste. That's your plan tonight, at least until _he_ shows up. You're surprised when he puts his arms around you and kisses you deeply. You kiss back, feeling his body heat through your clothes. How long has it been since…?  
  
"Take me home with you."  
  
Junsu disappeared some time ago—probably dancing with some of his female friends and that guy he has been dating the last couple of months—so you don't hesitate. You leave the club without a backward glance, his hand warm in yours; once outside, he hangs on to you while you walk, telling you some incoherent story about a magician and a princess, and how they were meant to die together. _Typical_ , you think, because he hasn't changed, not really; he never did make much sense, anyway.  
  
Once at your apartment, you don't know what to expect. Still, you aren't surprised when he kisses you again, nor when he grabs your hand and pulls you into the bedroom. For a moment you think about pushing him away, but you find you don't really care (maybe the few drinks you had are to blame).  
  
"I missed you so much," you moan as he kisses your neck, lips soft but demanding, just like you remember from so long ago. You could almost cry; you've missed him so much, you've missed his kisses, his body, his scent, everything about him, and, damn if you're going to deny yourself now. He has changed, you can tell in a heartbeat, but you force yourself to stop wondering about how many lovers he may have had since he left you; instead, you focus on him, on his kisses, on his hands on your thighs, and then, when he's inside of you, you feel more alive than ever. You focus on the sounds he makes, his loud moans, the way he grunts as he thrusts forward. He doesn't take his eyes off yours as he makes you come, tongue peeking out between wet red lips, until he lets himself go, his head falling back in pleasure.  
  
You don't clean up the mess; he doesn't seem to care as he falls on the bed next to you and you fall prey to his slow kisses, your bodies close together. You fall asleep in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent and his warmth, whispering _I missed you_ into his hair.  
  


  
 **Title: Secrets**  
  
"Where are you?"  
  
You're walking toward the same place you left last night. It's almost eleven at night, and Junsu has been calling since earlier to invite you to some party or something.  
  
"But there's someone I want you to meet," he nearly whines when you tell him you can't make it. "Come on, what's more important than spending the night with me?"  
  
His words make you laugh, as they're meant to. He loves to joke around, much like when you were lovers, except he doesn't mean the things he says anymore.  
  
"I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"  
  
You can almost imagine him rolling his eyes as he agrees, and you laugh, sliding your cell phone into a pocket of your jacket.  
  
 _Why am I such an idiot?_ you ask yourself while you wait in line to be let into the club. You don't really know what you hope to find there, not after you woke up in the morning, cold, naked, _alone_. _He doesn't care_ , you tell yourself, trying to convince yourself that he's not worth any trouble. Nevertheless, you pay the entrance fee and go in.  
  
You find him over an hour later, laughing and dancing around with some girl. He seems to be familiar with her and some others sitting at a table near him. _He's safe_ , it's all you think, though, all anger dissipating at his sight. He looks happy, but, as soon as he looks your way, you notice _he's_ not really there, just a crazy, mindless shell. _Why do you do this to yourself?_  
  
"Jaejoong."  
  
He smiles at your sight, comes up to you and kisses your cheek.  
  
"Yoochunnie! I missed you."  
  
He convinces you to sit with him; he introduces you to his friends (though they obviously couldn't care less about you). He keeps talking nonsense, he drinks beer and other drinks his friends bring him. As minutes go by, your need to take him away grows; you want to grab him and take him home, keep him there, safe from the world; you want to sit him down and ask him what he's escaping from even now. You're not strong enough, though. When he leaves the table with one of the girls, her smaller hand leading him to the dance floor, you get up and leave.  
  
 _He doesn't need me_ , you think. _He doesn't even want me._  
  
Once outside, you light up a cigarette and walk home. There's nothing else you can do.  
  


  
 **Title: Hesitation**  
  
"I almost thought you weren't coming, you jerk!"  
  
Today is Junsu's birthday, and, somehow, with the stress of university, your job as a clerk at the music store a few blocks away, and being depressed with Jaejoong appearing and disappearing every few days, you completely forgot. You don't tell Junsu, of course: you tell him "Happy birthday!" and hand him a professionally wrapped gift.  
  
"Hey, everyone, look who's here!"  
  
"Everyone" is, of course, the several friends the two of you have made during the last few years. Some of them still don't forgive you for hurting Junsu—never mind that he was the one who broke up with you—but others you get along with great. You see Hyukjae talking with Donghae near the sofa, and you're about to walk up to them, when a strong hand stops you; next thing you know, Junsu's looking straight into your eyes, an impish grin on his lips.  
  
"You know today is my birthday, right?"  
  
You wonder where he's going with this; you're almost sure you don't want to know.  
  
"So, there's something you have to do. For me. And you can't say no."  
  
He gives you no chance to reply; before you know it, you're standing in front of a total stranger.  
  
"Changmin, this is Park Yoochun, my best friend. He's the guy I was telling you about." You barely register Junsu's words, absolutely transfixed by the stranger's appearance, by his tall and lean frame, and his shoulder-length black hair. You're staring at him, rather rudely, you realize, but you don't care, at least not until it registers that he's speaking to you—"Shim Changmin"—coffee brown eyes meeting yours. Not two seconds later, Junsu gives you a bright grin, and leaves, promising to bring you a drink.  
  
You're at a loss, wondering what just happened. But then Changmin speaks. And you forget the rest of the world.  
  


  
 **Title: Need**  
  
"I must be insane."  
  
Junsu would agree with you, you're sure of it. He's not here, though; he's probably at his own apartment with Hyukjae (you're sure they're sleeping together even though they deny it. They seem happy lately, though, which is more than you can say for yourself).  
  
 _He_ looks so beautiful fast asleep, his pale back bare under the desk lamp's dim light. This has to be the fifth time the two of you have ended up in your apartment since you found him again. Sometimes he calls, sometimes you go find him.  
  
 _I'm an idiot._  
  
You're tired of this, of begging for his attention, of being here when he wants you to be. He remains quiet about the past, about anything important, actually. Only nonsense comes out of his mouth, crazy stories, or he sings, sometimes the songs he used to sing to you back when you were at school. Sometimes you wonder if he's using drugs aside from the ridiculous amounts of alcohol you have seen him drink.  
  
You sigh, looking away from him.  
  
"Walk me home?" Changmin asked you the night you met. You loved spending those few hours at the party, finding out about his career, his life—"I'm a Music Major."—just listening to his voice soothed your frayed nerves. You haven't had that since Junsu and that was so long ago. He asked you out to dinner after you left him at his door; you said yes, of course. Don't you deserve to be happy for once?  
  
"Yoochun…"  
  
Jaejoong is looking at you, still half asleep, smiling. You want to say no, but then he holds out his hand.  
  
You go to him.  
  
  
 **Title: Farewell**  
  
 _This is the last time_ , you promise as you walk into the club once more. He called you while you were still at work, following the same routine of the past two weeks.  
  
 _"Meet me?"_  
  
You hate how you can never say no to him, no matter how many mornings you wake up alone in bed, with barely any evidence that he was really there. He feels like a ghost, here one moment, gone the next, and you're tired of it all.  
  
You find him at the same spot as always, sitting with some guy you recognize from before. They look rather cozy, but you ignore that as you grab Jaejoong's arm and pull him along with you.  
  
"What the fuck… ? Yoochun!"  
  
You ignore his words until you're outside. He takes his arm back, glaring at you fiercely.  
  
"What the hell is your problem!?" He's already drunk, you can see by just looking into his eyes.  
  
"Maybe I should be asking you that!" Fuck, you're angry, you want to scream at him, maybe even slap some sense into him. "You disappeared on me years ago, no explanation. And now you come back, look me up when you feel like it and I'm just supposed to accept that?"  
  
He just stares at you, eyes wide. _Don't cry_ , you tell yourself, but the tears spill anyway. Why can't he see how he's hurting you?  
  
"Why did you leave that time?" You ask even though something inside tells you not to. "What were you running away from? Why did you leave me?"  
  
He puts his hands over his ears and closes his eyes, starts singing softly to himself, like doing so will make the world disappear. You're stunned, filled with another million questions. _What happened to you?_  
  
"Jaejoong…"  
  
You don't expect it when he turns around and runs away, back into the club. You can only watch him leave, too tired to give chase.  
  


  
 **Title: Wrong**  
  
"Yoochun?"  
  
You're sorry to wake Junsu up so late, but you really don't know where else to go. Thankfully, you don't have to explain: he takes one look at you and immediately pulls you inside.  
  
Somehow, you tell him everything before he can ask, about running into Jaejoong almost two weeks ago, about him calling you several times, spending the night at your apartment. He listens quietly, holding your hand when you can't hold in the tears any longer.  
  
He says nothing about Jaejoong's behavior, but you can't forget it, and you can't stop making connections in your mind. _He's not crazy_ , you tell yourself, even though you wondered frequently when you were younger and your once best friend pulled you into some insane situation.  
  
"Stay here tonight, okay?" You don't have the strength to reply, but you allow him to pull you into the bedroom and down on the bed.  
  
Why couldn't it be Junsu? You wonder this every day, and you hate that you can't change how you feel no matter how hard you try.  
  
He slips his arms around you, singing you to sleep. You calm down, and close your eyes.  
  
 _I will forget him_ , you promise.  
  
 _I will._


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: Compromise**  
  
"Come on up."  
  
It's not the first time he asks you to come up to his apartment, yet it feels as if it were. The stairs are familiar, as is the hall and the wooden door that opens into his space.  
  
"Make yourself comfortable."  
  
He lives alone, in a studio apartment he rents with the stipend his parents send him every month.  
  
"I'm on a scholarship," he told you on your first date a few months ago, right after you told him your parents had paid for most of your education. You still think about that night sometimes, about the way he looked in jeans and a dark blue sweater, wearing stylish eyeglasses—"I've been reading all day," he explained when you asked—that made him even more attractive to your eyes.  
  
Tonight, he's wearing similar attire, except a short-sleeved shirt has replaced the sweater. The clothes cling in all the right places, and you just can't stop staring—"You need to stop doing that," he said earlier, grinning.  
  
When you first met him, you didn't think you would last past a few dates. You were still hung up on _him_ , after all, your heart still raw with new hurt. Yet, somehow Changmin managed to get under your skin; he's all you think about lately, all you talk about when Junsu calls. You're hopelessly infatuated, you know this, and he knows this.  
  
"You're quiet tonight," he says as he sits next to you on the bed. He has only a few pieces of furniture, including a comfortable bed pushed into a corner (you know you'll end up there, anyway, not that you want to rush things or anything).  
  
"Just thinking."  
  
He's two years younger than you, but he acts and speaks as if he were older. It's an attractive trait most of the time, you must admit this, even if he irks you every once in a while, especially when he rolls his eyes at something you say. Changmin is cynical, even cruel when he wants to be; sometimes he makes fun of you when you cry too easily (he reminds you of _him_ sometimes), and you hate him for a full five minutes before he hugs you and tells you that everything will be all right.  
  
"What about?"  
  
Now he's sitting next to you, long hair loose from its usual ponytail, eyeglasses off. He looks somewhat vulnerable like this, you think, or maybe it's the way he's looking at you, like he's waiting for you to say or do something. _What do you want from me?_ you wonder, but you don't ask him. Changmin is the kind of man who will ask or take whenever he wants to; you figure he will do the same with you.  
  
His breath hitches when you gently hold the back of his neck to bring him closer. You kiss him gently, pushing your feelings into it (just like you always do). He kisses back, and you can feel the change in him, how he doesn't hesitate to slide his arms around your waist to bring you closer.  
  
 _I'm ready_ , you think to yourself. And you know you are.  
  
  
 **Title: Road**  
  
"I love you."  
  
His chest is still heaving, skin flushed and sweaty. He's a beautiful sight right after sex (when isn't he?), eyes bright and dreamy, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. You will never forget how he fell asleep immediately after your first time together, long arms around your waist, thoughts of a shower gone the instant he closed his eyes.  
  
This time is different. You felt it long before you went back to his apartment after your date. He was hesitant throughout most of the day, quiet, pensive—he kept saying "I'm all right" whenever you remarked on his silence—and while he doesn't normally speak unless he has something valuable to say, his behavior is completely out of character.  
  
Once back at your place, he pulls you into the bedroom almost immediately. The sex is mind-blowing, like always. If there's something you really like about your relationship, it's how easily you have learned to read each other's bodies; Changmin can read you like a book—every sound, breath, motion—even when he's angry after one of your ridiculous lover's spats (perhaps more then). He's a passionate lover, and, shit, you think you love him, too.  
  
His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows hard, eyes still fixed on yours. You know he's waiting for a reply—he deserves one, _now_.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
  
 **Title: Emotion**  
  
"Just stay the fuck away from me!"  
  
He moans into the kiss, holding your head in place. His lips are hard, bruising, _angry_.  
  
"Why are you acting like this?"  
  
You're on top of him, trying to make short work of both your clothes, except that he's holding you so close you can barely move. You can feel how hard he is, you know that he's as turned on as you are.  
  
"You're acting like an idiot."  
  
Changmin says you should know better than to insult him, but you can't help it, not when your words stop him cold and he turns his angry eyes on you. Sometimes you think you should be afraid of him; however, you enjoy pushing his buttons, and he makes it so easy, too. You love how jealous he gets whenever Junsu hugs you, or when you flirt with the female waitresses at the shops and restaurants you go to on your dates. Usually, he's ready to vent the moment you get back to his place, except for the rare occasion when he just gives you the silent treatment, and you're left downstairs, rolling your eyes at both him and yourself.  
  
"Come on!" He pushes you off, and sits on the bed, pulling off his shirt quickly, before he starts working on his jeans. You stare as he gets naked fast—he's so beautiful, his dark skin so enticing and perfect, his body built just right—until he pushes you to lie back on the bed, and then he's kissing you again.  
  
"You're too slow," he accuses you, undressing you. His gaze is smoldering when he looks at you, all bare and his for the taking, except that's not the way this goes, or rarely does. It isn't long before he's ready, straddling your hips and lowering himself to take in your erection. The sight nearly undoes you every time, the sight of his bare neck as he throws back his head, his mouth open as he moans loudly. He fucks himself hard and fast, and you can only lie there, feeling him; you fight your body until you can't anymore, right after he gasps loudly and he spills onto your skin.  
  
He falls next to you, looking exhausted and amused. He looks like he wants to say something, even as he gasps for air, chest heaving.  
  
You never find out, though; you fall asleep listening as his breathing goes back to normal.  
  
  
 **Title: Picture**  
  
"I will write the greatest novel ever!"  
  
He laughs loudly, eyes bright and drunk with beer and something else. In turn, you laugh at him, at the way he raises his arms over his head and starts dancing around. Jaejoong is always crazy, but he's definitely insane when he's intoxicated, singing loudly and dancing in the middle of parking lots or parks, or on the sand at the beach.  
  
Tonight, he made you drive to the beach—"No, no! Gah, Yoochun!"—screaming every time it seemed like you would lose control of the wheel. Once "safe" (as he declared the moment you pulled up at your usual place), he pulled you close and kissed you until you could barely breathe.  
  
"Dance with me." He smiles at you, and you know you can't resist him. You stand up and follow his lead, or, at least, you try, you're no dancer and that's fine by you. He sings even louder, nearly shouting the lyrics, until you decide you must kiss him or risk calling attention to yourselves. Jaejoong doesn't resist you (he rarely ever does), hugging you tightly.  
  
"Will you read my novel?" he asks the second he breaks the kiss. "You have to! You'll be in it! And if you don't read it, nobody will. I'll be a failure and-"  
  
You cover his mouth with your hand, effectively shutting him up.  
  
"I'll read it. Promise."  
  
  
 **Title: Life**  
  
"It seems like you are our guy."  
  
You sigh, pulling at your tie as you walk into your apartment. The smell of food and the thought of seeing your boyfriend after nearly a week of just phone calls are the only things keeping you standing.  
  
"You come with excellent letters of recommendation," the man who is now your boss told you the day of the second interview. You really can't complain: the company pays you well, you get along with everyone at the office, including your boss; the clients love your ideas. It's true that you work long hours, but, who doesn't?  
  
"You're home!" You have to smile at his sight. He's wearing one of your oversized t-shirts—you're sure he came over right after school—and shorts he keeps at your place for when he stays over. Life seems perfect when he walks up to you and kisses you, arms holding you tight.  
  
He tells you to go and shower, and you obey, feeling so tired you think you could fall asleep on your feet. You let the hot water wash away a whole day of stress and frustration and too much work for one person. There's only one more coordinator, but you carry most of the workload—"That means you're really good," Changmin tried to assure you when you complained that the company must hate you—and you're afraid you'll collapse one of these days.  
  
Dinner's ready when you come out. The two of you sit together on the sofa, and he asks about your day, letting you vent. Later, he tells you about his own day, his schoolwork, the song he has to complete before the end of term. Afterward, you watch some game show. You're already half asleep by the time it ends.  
  
Your lover pulls you to your room and to your bed, laughing at your lack of cooperation. You want to care, honestly, but you don't, not when he lies next to you. You fall asleep to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of his arms around you.  
  


 **Title: Hope**  
  
"Hyukjae asked Junsu to move in with him."

You don't think you have ever wanted for a day to end, not like you have today. Your boss has been insisting that you push forward a particular project, but you're still working on two other studies and there's no one to take off some of the load. You're trying not to go crazy with the possible consequences of not doing as he's asking—it's not really your fault. The highlight of your day was receiving a phone call from a frantic Junsu in the middle of the afternoon.  
  
"He took me out to lunch, and the bastard asked, right there, in the frigging restaurant!"  
  
You didn't want to laugh, but you had to. Junsu and Hyukjae have been together for around a year and a half, and they're so in love the whole world sees even when they're not advertising it.  
  
"Well, that's the next step, isn't it?" Changmin replies, sitting next to you on the sofa. He's staying over again, and you would smile at his sight, except that he's giving you a _look_. You're about to ask what he's thinking about, when he takes a deep breath.  
  
"In fact, I was thinking… Maybe _we_ should move in together."  
  
You stare at him, at the way he bites his lower lip in nervousness. You have thought about it, too, but you never imagined…  
  
"So, what do you think?" He has never looked more vulnerable than now, not even that night when he first told you he loved you.  
  
"I think we need to get a bigger place."  
  
It takes him a few seconds to process your answer. You don't expect him to throw himself at you and kiss you deeply, like in the movies, but he does, pushing you down with his body, muttering "I love you" and "Fuck, we need to celebrate now." You give in to him, laughing.  
  
How long has it been since you last felt this happy?  
  
  
 **Title: Embrace**  
  
"Where do you want to put these?"  
  
You turn to the door, only to see him holding up one of the three framed posters that provided any type of decoration to your now former apartment. They look completely out of place in your new home, but, somehow, you can't bring yourself to part with them.  
  
"Um, put them in the "decide later" pile?"  
  
Changmin grins, rolling his eyes, and does as you ask. You go back to your own task: putting your new desk together piece by piece (you wish you had bought that nice old desk at the used furniture store instead of buying this sorry plywood desk, but no, Changmin _knew better.)_ That's pretty much how your new life with Changmin feels, like a puzzle, and you're both slowly putting the pieces together. You have the most important, you think: love, commitment, and your new home. The rest will just come with time (or so you hope).

"You do love him, right?" Junsu asked you just a few days ago. At first, you felt insulted, but, after thinking on it, you were glad someone was questioning your intentions.  
  
"I do."  
  
This is for life, it's something you have been aware of ever since you accepted Changmin's proposal. You love him, he loves you, you have been a couple for over a year, he was already staying in your apartment almost every night, so, why not?  
  
"That pile keeps getting bigger, just so you know."  
  
You shrug, glancing at him briefly. He has taken upon himself to get things in order, and you have let him, mostly because you know he likes having things done a certain way, and that's all right with you. So far, you have been moving furniture, putting stuff together, while he organizes the items in the few dozen boxes and bags you have between the two of you.  
  
"I promise I'll get to it," you say. You nearly drop the screwdriver when you feel hands on your shoulders, and then he's kissing you, lips as demanding as ever. He leaves you breathless, and you stare at his wet lips as he comes closer to whisper into your ear.  
  
"Break?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: Circles**

"Junsu called me earlier."

It's late, you know without glancing at the clock. Your back hurts from sitting all day, first at the office and later at home. Changmin hates it when you bring work home with you, but you really have no choice—unless you want to get fired, that is.

"He asked if we can come to dinner on Friday."

If only you could send it all to hell, you would (you fantasize about your boss' shocked expression when you tell him "I quit!" before you stomp out of the office for the last time). However, now you have obligations: paying for the apartment, for the car you and your boyfriend share, groceries, the loans you took out after your parents finally admitted they couldn't keep paying tuition … It isn't much, really, and Changmin uses his stipend wisely, spending only what is necessary. He works part-time while completing graduate studies, but most of that money goes toward his education (and you wouldn't have it any other way).

"So, I told him I would ask you."

"They work you to death," Junsu says whenever you complain to him. He thinks you should find another job, somewhere you get paid what you deserve.

"Yoochun, are you listening?"

However, you have been at this company only three years, not enough time to gather the necessary experience to move on, in your opinion. Is it worth getting sick over, though? You barely see your friends, even your relationship with your life partner is suffering…

"Yoochun!"

You jump when you feel a hand on your arm. As soon as you look to your right, you find Changmin looking at you—he has that expression he gets just before he's officially pissed off.

"What?"

He sighs, shaking his head, and turning to the door.

"Nothing. Just going to bed."

You go back to work.

**Title: Devotion**

"Aren't you hungry?"

He's sitting next to you, legs pulled close to his chest. He looks tired, listless. He has been this way all week, closed off from the world (from you). It's not the first time you have seen him like this; usually, he'll disappear for a day or so, and then he'll come back—if you're unlucky, at around two in the morning, loaded with alcohol and the idea that he can take over the world—like nothing has happened, smiling and singing and making you happy and angry (and so many other emotions you don't think you could name them all).

Today, you miss the sound of his voice, his laughter, and his singing; you miss his smile, his easy nature.

"Hyung, you need to eat…"

"Fuck off."

His tone catches you by surprise; all this time being friends (and lovers), and he has never once been angry at you. The glare he gives you, however, makes your breath hitch. _It's not my fault if you're pissed off_ , you want to tell him. Instead, you choose silence.

Lunch break is almost over, and here you are, glaring back at the most important person in the world to you. It used to be so easy to talk back at him, especially when he acted this way. Why can you never speak out anymore?

Suddenly, he gets up, grabs his bag and walks away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

He doesn't turn around, just keeps on going.

"Away."

**Title: Ghosts**

_"You owe it to him."_

You sigh impatiently, glancing at the list in your hand and taking note of the next item before you search for it. Junsu is right, though: you owe Changmin an apology for all those days you brought work home and paid little, if any, attention to him.

"He needs a home-cooked meal," Junsu told you, one by one, the things you need to do—you joke that the music teacher could be a romance counselor or something similar if his career as a teacher doesn't work out, but Junsu only tells you to pay attention—"No more take out for a few days. And watch television together or something. And initiate sex, for God's sake! I feel sorry for the poor guy, so young, and already sex deprived?"

Sadly, Junsu is right. You wish you could say that you had no choice in the matter, but it was you who chose not to ask for assistance; sure, your boss may be a bit of a slave driver, but he has never denied you an assistant if you really needed one. And, while all that extra work helped you get in your superiors' good graces, they don't care about you; Changmin does, and here you are, for once making an effort to make him happy instead of the other way around.

You're stopped from grabbing the next item on your list when a can of vegetables falls to the floor and rolls up to your shoe.

"Sorry," a man apologizes as you bend down to grab the can. "Clumsy."

"It's all right," you say, straightening up with a smile, holding out the can to hand it to the stranger. It falls from your grasp, however, the second you look up.

It's him, no question about it. He looks older, his black hair is longer than the last time you saw him. He has gained some weight, though, even if he looks tired and worn—you're not surprised by that, not if he hasn't stopped drinking and smoking and God knows what else.

"Hey, Jaejoong, are we done, yet?"

He seems to wake up, turning to look at the man who comes up behind him. The stranger is handsome, you notice, and fit, and his smile seems almost brighter than Junsu's, if such a thing is possible.

"Um, yeah, almost." Jaejoong sounds tired, subdued; you hate it, and you wonder, for a full ten seconds, if this stranger is the reason for such a change in the man you once called your best friend. "Yunho, I want you to meet Park Yoochun."

It's funny, you haven't even spoken a word to each other, and he's already introducing you to this guy, this Yunho, who has a small face and brown hair and an aura of masculinity and trust all at the same time. You wish you could glare at them both, but you only answer Yunho's surprised greeting.

"Oh, wow, Jaejoong has told me so much about you." You have always considered yourself a rather good judge of character ("Except where Jaejoong is concerned," you remember Junsu's words from not so long ago), and, sadly—or perhaps not—you can't fight the smile you feel appear at Yunho's heartfelt words.

"He has? We haven't seen each other in a while…"

"Yeah, he told me." Then Yunho brightens, turning to Jaejoong with an even brighter smile. "Hey, how about we invite him over to dinner? Do you have plans for tomorrow night?"

You exchange phone numbers, while Jaejoong only nods in assent at Yunho's every word, barely smiling. They leave soon enough, Yunho's arm around Jaejoong's shoulders as they say goodbye.

You watch their backs as they walk away, the can of vegetables forgotten at your feet.

**Title: Waiting**

"Yes, we should go, of course."

Changmin smiles at you when you glance at him before stepping out of the elevator. He looks elegant and beautiful, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and dress pants, eyeglasses on. You almost want to turn on your heel and go back home. You're in love with this man walking right next to you, he's everything you could ever want. Why revisit the past? Why open old wounds?

"You look amazing," he tells you, smiling at you just before he knocks on the door. You smile back (you hope the action hides the feelings warring inside of you), and you're about to return the compliment, when the door opens to reveal a smiling Yunho.

"Come in and make yourselves at home."

The apartment is similar to the one you and Changmin share, though not as stylish, you think. They haven't lived there very long—"About a year," Yunho says when Changmin asks—and, despite the cleanliness and the nice furniture, it shows.

Jaejoong comes out soon enough, and he smiles when he and Changmin are introduced. He and Yunho accept the bottle of wine and the desserts you and Changmin brought as gifts. Conversation flows nicely (Jaejoong sits quietly most of the time, occasionally sipping on his glass of juice), mostly between Changmin and Yunho. Soon enough, you find out that Yunho works as a choreographer and a backup dancer.

"I love my job," he says, smiling brightly. You think you could definitely get to like this guy, at least until he starts talking about Jaejoong.

"Jae works at a clothing store," he says, then looks at Jaejoong. "That's where we met a few years ago."

A few years ago? Was it before or after Jaejoong came and disrupted your life the last time? Suddenly, you're angry, but you have no outlet, and Jaejoong won't look at you, he only talks and smiles when he's spoken to. What the fuck is wrong with you? you wonder, glaring at him, wishing he would look up from the floor and at you.

Nevertheless, you keep quiet, watching him while participating in the conversation as much as you can.

During dinner, Yunho and Changmin talk about music—Changmin's favorite topic—and you listen with half an ear. Luckily, Jaejoong looks at you, and you have the chance to speak to him, if only through your gaze. There's something off about him, though, you're not sure what it is, like he's… not quite there. You get the same feeling you got at the grocery store, that something isn't quite right, and you want to ask, because this isn't the Jaejoong you knew, not even at his worst.

But he looks down and the moment is lost.

**Title: Sores**

"They're really nice."

Changmin hands you a glass of soda before sitting next to you on the couch. Hyukjae comes right after him bearing a plate of snacks and two glasses dangerously squeezed between his arm and side—you're glad when Junsu moves to grab the glasses before they can crash to the floor.

"Really?" Junsu asks and you can feel his gaze on you for a just a second before he turns to your lover once more.

Changmin tells them about the food—"Jaejoong is a really good cook!"—and about the conversation that he and Yunho led most of the night. You don't talk much, usually, but you're definitely quieter tonight, nodding and adding little to both your partner's account and the conversation that follows afterward (you keep wishing you had canceled dinner at Junsu's, except it's already a kind of tradition, and you wouldn't want to disappoint Changmin).

You're beginning to feel suffocated when you finally decide to go out to the balcony to smoke (you ignore Changmin when he reminds you that he'll hate you if you die of lung cancer). Once outside, you finally breathe, closing your eyes as you lean against the railing. It isn't long until you hear the sliding door open and close, the soft squeaking filling the silence just as you've taken the first drag, and then he's there, standing next to you.

"Did you tell him about Jaejoong?" His question doesn't surprise you. You take care to exhale away from him.

"I did." You can feel his incredulous gaze, and you sigh, heart filling with guilt. "All right, not all of it."

He sighs impatiently. Jaejoong was one of the reasons your relationship ended when it did, you can't blame Junsu for being upset over his return. Can you tell Changmin the whole story, though?

"Do you love him? Changmin?"

You finally look at him—you're sure you look angry over his question—but then you take in his watery gaze; your heart aches. How is it possible, after all this time…?

"Junsu…"

"I love Hyukjae," he tells you (you're briefly distracted by the sight of his tongue wetting his lips). "The last thing I want to do is hurt him. I should hope you at least feel that way about Changmin."

You're about to say _I do_ , but he turns away and goes back into the apartment.

You love Changmin, you know you do. However, can you tell him?

**Title: Nowhere**

"Hey! Glad you could make it."

The door opens and closes, signaling their arrival to your home.

"I thought we should return the favor," Changmin caught you by surprise nearly a week ago. Jaejoong has not called you during all that time (you know you should be grateful), but he hasn't left your thoughts, either. His image haunts you during your waking hours, his glazed eyes and sleepy smiles grabbing at you and refusing to let go; at night, you dream about the last time you saw him before now, hands over his ears, singing softly to block out your words. Sometimes you think about calling him (you have his number from that day at the grocery store), asking if he's all right (if he needs you). However, you shake your head and try to forget.

Changmin smiles widely when you agree to his suggestion. The two of you are so alone, so isolated from the world you used to belong to when you first became a couple; only Junsu and Hyukjae remain from the old crowd. He deserves this, at least, doesn't he?

You make dinner together, joking around and making out in the kitchen—dinner almost burns once or twice. _This could work_ , you think, because you and Changmin are happy, you love each other, and nothing could ever break the bond you share.

"Hey, Yoochun." Jaejoong smiles at you and you smile back. You loved him once (maybe you still do), but now he's in a stable relationship with Yunho, who clearly loves him. He doesn't drink, he has a good job. You're happy for him, and, you believe, this is the way it should be.

Conversation flows more easily this time, as both you and Jaejoong participate instead of speaking when prompted. Changmin and Yunho are curious about your friendship, though; they ask, delicately, when and how you met. Jaejoong answers quickly, explaining how he found you crying over your high school girlfriend one day.

"Right then, I decided he needed me," he says, smiling at you fondly. "We were friends from then on."

His eyes have that spark, just for that moment when he looks at you. You have missed him, you realize: his smirk, that teasing glint in his eye, how beautiful he looks when he smiles… Soon enough, Yunho speaks and the conversation shifts once more.

Later, the four of you sit in the living room, where you continue talking and listening to music. Changmin sits close to you, like he always does, arm locked with yours; the other couple sits on the sofa, and, as time passes, you see Jaejoong act a bit more like himself, joking and making the three of you laugh. He's still different from his old self, more coherent… sane.

It doesn't really matter, though. This night, you think, could be the beginning of something good. The four of you click, you could be friends. Why not give it a chance?


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: Illusion**

"I know what they say about me."

He takes a drag from his cigarette before he passes it to you. You have long gotten used to sharing cigarettes and beer bottles, so you don't hesitate to bring the thin cylinder to your mouth. The smoke fails to calm your nerves, though—it's still afternoon, you have skipped school once again, and your father has promised there will be hell to pay if you don't work harder at school.

"I'm sure you heard that I must have sucked off our History teacher to get a passing grade."

You nearly choke at his words (at the vivid image they bring to your mind). There have always been rumors about him, ever since you can remember, some of them horribly unfair, you realize now, but others…

"That's because it's the only class you passed last year."

He scoffs, taking the cigarette back from your hands. His skin is cold, you realize, and paler than usual. When you parted ways last week, you didn't think it would be the last time for a full week after; he did call and tell you not to worry, but still…

"How about you? Do you believe them? The rumors?"

It's rare that he's so serious, so… calm. Why does he even want to know? Is your friendship not enough evidence that he matters more to you than stupid rumors?

"No, I don't."

To your surprise, he scoffs again, but he doesn't look at you as he passes the cigarette over to you once again. There must be something you could say, maybe something he wants to hear, but he confuses you, he inspires you to act and think crazy… Does it even matter, though? Jaejoong will reach his own conclusions no matter what you say.

You sigh before taking another drag, and he takes the cigarette back without another word.

"It doesn't matter," you decide. He looks at you, but you only stare forward.

**Title: Angelic**

"He's definitely not the same guy I met."

Not far away, Changmin bursts out laughing. The sound warms your heart—it's so rare these days, thoughtful frowns have slowly replaced his calm, warm smiles. He, Hyukjae, Yunho and Jaejoong are in the living room, talking and joking around, as they are prone to doing during these rare nights when you can get together. Changmin has always been the quiet type, but even he needs friends (at least you have Junsu).

You're not surprised when Junsu catches you outside—the sneaky bastard—just as you take a cigarette break. Your best friend didn't say anything the previous times you met, but tonight, you know as soon as he crosses the front door.

"I know." It shouldn't hurt to admit it, but it does. You miss crazy, random Jaejoong; this man here is too calm, too quiet and his smiles don't reach his eyes. _Selfish_ , you think of yourself every time you wish you had him back—never mind, you have moved on, now Jaejoong is just a friend, if that, and both of you are happy and…

"Yoochun." Junsu touches your arm, looking into your eyes. Is he surprised that you haven't come crying to him, yet? "He's happy. Be happy for him."

His words render you speechless for a moment. You swallow hard, yet nod in agreement.

He stays with you until you finish your cigarette. When you're done and Junsu follows you inside, the others welcome you back—Changmin reaches for your hand and pulls you to sit next to him on the sofa.

"You all right?" he asks immediately, eyes bright and mismatched, cheeks flushed with alcohol and laughter. His sight makes you smile immediately, almost pushing away the shadows that seem so intent on swallowing you whole.

"I'm fine." He smiles at your reply. It isn't long before his attention shifts again (though he keeps your arms locked), and he and the others go on talking about this and that band and stuff you really don't care about right now. You wish you did, but you're so tired, work really wears you out and now, with your friends…

"…Right, Jaejoong?" Jaejoong nods at Yunho's question, seemingly interested in the conversation. He goes off to dreamland not a second later, you can recognize that faraway look without trying.

Obviously, some things haven't changed.

**Title: Forbidden**

"Have you ever been in love with someone you shouldn't?"

Jaejoong looks better today than he did yesterday, less pale. And he isn't quiet anymore (you were getting tired of his uncharacteristic silence). Right now, people walk this way and that, but Jaejoong walks a straight path toward his destination: the ice cream shop. He doesn't really like sweets, but ice cream is like his guilty, secret pleasure (and you are his only accomplice).

You pause and consider his question. Have you ever been? You have had crushes, and your girlfriend from not so long ago. Being in love is supposed to be something else, though; it's something that can't be explained, that just happens, like hurricanes and earthquakes, unstoppable and earth-shattering. Or so you have heard.

"I don't think so," you answer, finally. "Have you?"

He grins at you, hands inside his pockets.

"Silly, isn't it? Like I need something else to cry about." But he's laughing—his eyes light up as the ice cream shop comes into view. You can only follow, sight down (you notice that his sneakers, which are only a few months old, look dirty and abused). However, something burns in the pit of your stomach and you know that you must look flushed for sure, and all because of his admission. Why are you reacting this way?

"Unrequited love is sweet torture," he continues. "You're left with the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. But then, there's no jealousy, no breakup, no disappointment."

He sighs, eyes acquiring that dreamy look they get sometimes. It's funny: every time you're ready to sign him off as a basket case, he goes and does something that proves the absolute opposite. Why does he sound so mature right now?

"How old did you say you were?" you ask. You get butterflies in your stomach when he bursts out laughing. "And, do I know this girl?"

"What makes you think it's a girl?"

You stop cold in your tracks, looking up to meet his gaze. So many things click into place because of that one seemingly innocent question. Suddenly, you feel awkward, but also strangely liberated. Maybe because he's finally opening up to you after just a few months of friendship?

"We're almost there!" he chirps, breaking your gaze. "Come on, I'll treat you to that disgusting caramel-something ice cream you like so much."

He starts walking again. You follow.

**Title: Faded**

"So, what did you want to talk about?"

Today is your day off… well, sort of: you brought home a pile of work, but you haven't touched it since you left it on your home desk last night. So, a free day, the perfect day for a date, you thought, maybe you could go see a movie with your partner and then to dinner. Work keeps you away from Changmin more often than it ever should (there's always a reason, always something only you can do), what better way to make it up to him?

"But I have a test tomorrow," Changmin told you when you asked. "I have a study group in twenty minutes."

He looked as disappointed as you felt, which was no consolation, really. It was only after he kissed you goodbye and you found yourself in your quiet, empty apartment that you finally grew restless. You didn't want to watch television, nor did you want to work; you felt like going out, being with Changmin, if not, then with a friend, but Junsu worked until later and he would go home to Hyukjae. Finally, you found the perfect excuse when you realized you were almost out of cigarettes. The walk to the convenience store (it's a few blocks away from your building, but you're glad for it—another excuse to do something other than sit and work) is too quick for your liking, but at least you're outside.

How lucky, you think, that you had to run into him the instant you stepped inside the store.

Now, sitting across from him at a coffee shop, you notice he's paler, though nowhere as thin nor as haggard as that night now years ago. He's still beautiful (you love how dark bangs fall just over his eyebrows, casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes), he always has been, even when looking his worst.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Oh, nothing in particular," you reply, shrugging. "I just wanted to talk, ask how you are."

He hums softly before sipping his tea. His hands tremble slightly, but that may be because he's tired; he always looks tired.

"I'm fine. Perfect," he says, smiling slightly. "The best I've been in years."

"Honest?"

He finally looks up and your eyes meet. His eyes are so different now, you don't see the swirl of emotions—the anger, pain, love, so many you doubt you could name them all—that you saw in Jaejoong's eyes back when you were little more than children. Isn't that a good thing, though? But you keep feeling like you're speaking to a complete stranger…

"Yoochunnie."

You jump, startled when he covers your hand with his. Why does he feel so cold? It's warm inside the shop and he's wearing a long-sleeved shirt…

"I'm fine," he repeats, holding your gaze. "Trust me on this, okay? I have a stable job, a home. And Yunho…" (Something stabs at your chest when he smiles fondly.) "Yunho is wonderful. And I'm happy."

When he moves his hand away, you feel the loss so keenly it hurts.

Maybe it's because he seems so honest, so calm, but you believe him. Have you been an idiot, worrying so much when there's really nothing wrong?

"And so are you and Changmin, if my eyes don't deceive me," he continues, eyes shining with amusement.

This time, you smile with him.

**Title: Place**

"So, what did you do today?"

You feel Changmin sigh softly against your neck. You're lounging on the sofa, your partner his head leaning on your chest. He keeps changing the channels on the TV, never satisfied with anything—dramas, variety shows, documentaries—he may randomly find.

Tonight has been one of those rare nights when you get to come home early. Changmin was already back from school when you got there, and you made dinner together, like you used to back when you were both students and you stayed at each other's homes all the time. Afterward, you're sitting as close together as possible.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he answers, breath tickling your neck. He smells clean—he had just showered when you got home—a bit like his soap, and then there's that scent that's inherently his. "I went to class, studied, did some research for one of my term papers, studied some more."

You're not surprised when he mutes the TV and leans more comfortably against you. One thing Changmin, Jaejoong and Junsu have in common is that they need to be as close to their loved ones as possible. Jaejoong used to be ridiculously clingy, even when you were only friends; after you became a couple, you remember sitting hours on end on the back seat of his car, with him nearly sitting on your lap. Junsu… Junsu encouraged you to be physical rather than being physical himself. And Changmin…

"How about you?" he asks, grabbing your wrist and putting your arm over his belly (you grip him a bit tighter, because it's what you both want).

You sigh, wishing you could stop feeling so tired.

"Work, work and more work," you reply. "And then I got home and spent a wonderful evening with the man I love."

His breath hitches, and, next thing you know, he's above you, kissing you. You briefly wonder about the suddenness of his actions, but you decide to forget soon enough—why think when you have him in your arms?

You move to the bed soon enough; he takes charge, as he does, usually, but that's the way you like it. You cooperate as much as you can, pulling your clothes off fast and kissing back as passionately (all tongue and teeth, and, God, why must his lips be so wonderful?). There's barely any time for foreplay, you're too close, and you want to feel him inside of you, you need to feel him closer, your bodies and souls linked.

He groans as soon as he breaches your body, eyes closing. How long has it been since the last time you had sex? Going on two weeks?

"Oh, fuck," he mutters. You hang on to every sound he makes, while you focus on keeping your knees close to your chest, a hard feat when all you want to do is put your arms around him and bring him even closer.

You can tell, the moment right before he's about to lose it; you let yourself go, unable to keep your eyes open any longer.

As soon as you're both finished, he gets a wet towel and cleans you both up. Afterward, he comes back to bed and kisses you, arms warm around you. You have never felt safer.

**Title: Control**

"Could you meet me somewhere?"

It's almost two in the morning and it's cold outside. The jacket you slipped on before leaving home doesn't really ward against the temperature, but you've already walked the few blocks over to the coffee shop, where _he's_ waiting. And there he is, right outside, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

"Sorry to call you out so late," he apologizes. He looks more tired than usual, and worried, so worried, wringing his hands, unable to stay still.

"It's okay," you assure him. "Let's go inside. I'll treat you to coffee or anything you want."

He nods and follows you. You're suddenly reminded of those nights back in high school, when he came over at insane hours and made you sneak out with him. This isn't the same, you remind yourself of this, and yet you can't help feeling…

He asks for tea, again, but he doesn't drink it. Instead, he sits at the table, shoulders hunched, unable to sit still.

"Did something happen?" It's a valid question. You haven't seen each other alone since the one time you ran into each other and he assured you that he was happy. He doesn't call you, you don't call him, you're not friends, not in the full sense of the word; that made his phone call even more urgent.

However, he doesn't speak, just shakes his head in answer. You sigh impatiently. Must you play this game right now? You remember Changmin asleep at home, and you wish you could be in your shared bed, with him, instead of here, out with someone you promised would never disrupt your life again.

"Jaejoong."

His head snaps up and he looks at you, eyes wide and teary.

"I'm sorry," he says, just before tears start falling. He doesn't make any attempt to stop them, just sits there, crying.

You hate feeling so uncertain, but you immediately realize that you need to get him out of there. As soon as you've paid for your drinks, you pull him out of the coffee shop and start toward home.

"I'm sorry," he keeps saying, over and over, until he starts sobbing, hard. It's only then that you finally grow worried. He has never cried like this, in fact, you can't remember ever seeing him cry.

"What is it? What do you mean?" No other words come out. Finally, you put your arms around him (even when you know you shouldn't), holding him close, and he breaks down completely. It used to be the other way around, he was the one who held you when you cried, always he who was stronger (now you feel helpless and you hate the feeling).

He calms down soon enough, you know as soon as he stops leaning on you and lets go, drying his tears with his sleeve.

"You must think I'm insane," he says. You snort and shake your head, smiling slightly at him. But then he looks at you, into your eyes, as if searching for something. Whatever it is, he finds it, you realize…

Before you know what's happening, you feel soft lips pressed to your own, arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer. Your mind becomes a jumbled mess, because you want this so much (too much) you can't obey its orders to push him away.

So you don't.

(Or won't?)


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: Stage**

"Want to come over today?"

Jaejoong grins, a spring in his step as he leads you to his house. He doesn't live far from school, just a few streets away from yours, yet he has never invited you over before—not that you've ever invited him over, he's just followed you home. When he asked during lunch, and after a little more than a month of an interesting if confusing friendship with him, how could you say no?

He talks about school today, about your classmates and classes and homework—it reminds you that you saw your former girlfriend with her new boyfriend today, but it doesn't hurt anymore—and things he doesn't usually care about. No, Jaejoong is… you couldn't begin to explain if you wanted to. There's something about him that keeps you by his side, even though you used to push him away not too long ago. He's anything but normal, and, you know now, you like that.

Once you finally get to his house, you're disappointed. You don't know what you were expecting, but you certainly weren't expecting a home similar to yours, well taken care of, by the looks of it, and there were even a few potted plants near the front door.

"Come on in." You follow.

When you cross the front door, the view changes dramatically: it feels like there are too many things in too little space, too many bookshelves filled with books and notebooks and paper, and piles of magazines on tables. The kitchen seems normal, you think, when he calls you in to give you a glass of water.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking," he says, smirking. "But this is home."

Then he's leading you to his bedroom—you're unable to ignore the one room with a dresser with perfume bottles and makeup—and he's already opening the door, when another opens and a young woman not much older than yourself comes out. Your eyes meet instantly (you can't help but notice how pretty she is).

"Already back from school?" she asks, turning her gaze to your best friend.

"Yep," he chirps. "Nuna, this is Park Yoochun…"

"Oh." She looks you up and down with distaste. "Another one of your _friends_?"

You're surprised by her tone. What did you ever do to her? You can only stare in shock, until Jaejoong speaks again.

"Nuna, fuck off."

She's shocked by his reply—be it by the words or by his cheerful smile as he insults her, you have no idea—but Jaejoong doesn't care.

"Come on, Yoochunnie."

And you cross into his world.

**Title: Restraint**

"Yunho isn't home, and I really want to…"

"Hyung, I thought we talked about this."

It's early afternoon on your day off, and you're sitting at your home desk, working, as per usual. You haven't seen Changmin since he left in the morning to go to class. He smiled at you, said _I love you_ and gave you a lingering kiss before grabbing his book bag and disappearing through the front door.

When Jaejoong calls you a few hours later, you think about your lover, about how you hurt Junsu once and you hadn’t even kissed Jaejoong that time. Now it's different, you gave in to your repressed desires, and you have so much more to lose.

"I just want to talk." And he sounds so honest, remorseful, even.

The walk over is quiet save for the sounds of the streets and the unending chatter of your conscience. _Don't go_ , it told you before you agreed to go, _he'll only hurt you again._ You ignore it, though. _It's just to talk, nothing else._

Once at his building, you pause at the entrance.

 _What am I doing?_ you ask yourself, but you can't find a satisfactory argument to justify your actions, nor can you find a reason to leave, either.

So you step into the elevator, press the button to his floor, and look anywhere but at your reflection in the mirrored walls surrounding you. Until the doors open and let you out.

You could turn back if you wanted to, you still have time to leave and call Jaejoong, tell him that something came up, maybe that Changmin came home early.

But then you're at the door, one of several in a dim and common hall. How many times have you been here already since that day you found each other at the grocery store? It seems like so long ago even though only a few months have passed.

You sigh as you knock on the door. Whatever happens, happens. Whatever is said and done, it will be because you want it to. Once he's there, standing in front of you, smiling widely at your sight, you finally realize you never had a chance.

"You came," he says and holds out his hand. You take it.

**Title: Haze**

"Do your parents know about you?" Yunho looks innocent as he asks a not so innocent question. He's not trying to be cruel, though—you can see genuine curiosity in his brown eyes. It feels strange to be alone with him out in the balcony, both of you smoking. The door back into the apartment is closed, and the silence between you is almost deafening.

"No," you answer promptly. The question, you think, is ridiculous. You don't know anyone who has been brave enough to come out to his parents. Except maybe Junsu, but he doesn't really count. Junsu's parents ignore his and Hyukjae's very obvious relationship, but Junsu has never told them outright ("Mom stopped asking about girlfriends the moment I moved in with him," Junsu told you once, eyes wide in awe).

"You?" It's only fair that you return the question. He surprises you, though, with a rueful smile.

"They know," he says, then snorts softly. You wait for his story, for an explanation, but he doesn't give you one; no, he only stares forward, smoking silently.

You take the chance to study him. He's handsome—you thought so the first time you saw him (despite the desperate jealousy you felt at knowing what he was to _him_ )—strong, talented, at least according to Junsu—Yunho has become a part of his and Hyukjae's clubbing crowd. You have no reason to dislike him, no reason to deny him your friendship. However, you keep pulling away from his every attempt to engage you, quickly ending the few conversations he has managed to begin, and subtly changing places when he sits near you.

He, on the other hand…

"I'm going back inside," he announces, suddenly, putting his cigarette out. You nod, watching as he opens the sliding door—letting out the sound of voices and music for a split second—and leaves you to your thoughts again.

You sigh, leaning against the railing. You feel tired, worn out (more than usual, anyway). "Too much work," you tell Changmin when he asks, usually after he notices just how stiff your shoulders and neck are. And it isn't a lie, if you really think about it. Isn't lying a tad too much effort for someone like you?

He kissed you that time. You kissed back.

"I just want to talk," he said, but you knew, long before you ever got to his door. And when you followed him inside, the first thing he did was press his lips to yours. You could feel the desperation coursing through his body; he trembled in your arms, holding you tightly. But, when you tried to pull away, he refused to let you go.

"I need you," he said, eyes filled with emotion, with desire, with want (maybe even love). For a moment, you believed he was _your_ Jaejoong, the one whose memory you hold so close to your heart, with his grins and sweet kisses and that rusty old car he wasn't even old enough to be driving.

You're brought back to the present when you feel arms snake around your waist. As soon as you look down, you recognize his strong dark-skinned arms.

"Come back inside. I miss you."

You take a deep breath (trying to ignore the guilt that fills you at those words), and you cover his arms with your own.

"Changmin."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

**Title: Everything**

"What are you afraid of?" he asks into your ear. His breath tickles, but you don't pull away, too focused on the feeling of his hand down your pants, stroking, thumb teasing at the head of your member. You gasp, unable to keep quiet (the house is empty at 5 in the afternoon and your father will be home late, but still, you feel guilty about this).

"I'm not afraid," you whisper back. "I'm just…"

He grins, leaning forward to kiss you hard. You get lost in it, in his soft lips and wet tongue and…

"You're afraid," he repeats. You whine when he moves away from you. When he slips off his shirt, however, you become transfixed by his pale skin and perfect chest, and the way the metal in his nipple and belly button glisten under the dim lights. He's so beautiful and…

You swallow thickly when his hands go down to his belt. His eyes never leave you, though—you think you catch a glimpse of his tongue wetting his lower lip as he unclasps the buckle (did his hand tremble a bit just now?)—so intense and dark and…

It seems like forever before he's finally naked, and then he's coming back to bed, to you, so beautiful, so perfect, and you, who are you to…? You forget all about it when he straddles your hips and leans forward for another kiss.

"What are you afraid of?" he asks again, pulling at your shirt, and you let him. You feel warm and naked and he's kissing you again, and you're trying to decide why you're so damn _afraid_ of doing this. The last few weeks have been leading up to it. He wants it, you want it. Then…

"Don't you want to be with me?" And it's in the way he looks at you: he's afraid of rejection.

"I do," you reply immediately. "I do, I just…" (You're sure your face is burning by now.) "Doesn't _it_ hurt?"

He snorts, and then he's laughing, leaning against you, eyes smaller in mirth. You want to hate him for making fun of you (even though you aren't sure that's what he's doing), but you can't stop watching him. Why do you love him so much?

"Hyung…" you finally protest, trying to calm him down. Surprisingly, he stops laughing and leans closer to you again.

"Just let me," he says, voice huskier, eyes intense. "Trust me. There's nothing to be afraid of."

You believe him.

**Title: Inevitable**

_"It'll be just like old times."_

He's singing at the top of his lungs, his arm around your shoulders. You're nearly as drunk as he is, but at least you can still walk upright. Jaejoong, on the other hand…

"Hyung, I don't know…"

"Oh, come on, just a few drinks. Maybe we could go dancing!"

The club was full, and you drank and drank, and Jaejoong kept asking for refills (you wondered whether Yunho would notice the hole this little outing would leave in their budget), swallowing down a ridiculous combination of drinks. He danced alone, dragged you with him when you said you didn't want to; he felt you up in a corner, where you ended up making out until you came to your senses and finally pushed him away.

"Changmin's waiting for me," you told him. You don't know what you were expecting. Understanding? A nod and a reply of "Yes, Yunho's waiting for me, too"?

Jaejoong snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Fine!" he said. He paid the bill and you left together. Less than ten minutes later, and still in the rather darker side of town, he's still clinging to you (you hold him around the waist), and singing rather loudly into your ear.

"Hyung, you'll get us arrested," you tell him (you ignore your own slurred speech).

"Then let them arrest me!" he declares, raising a fist up in the air. "Fuck the establishment! I make my own law!" And he bursts out laughing hard. You can't help but laugh a bit. This is Jaejoong, after all, only he can make such ridiculous statements.

"Oh, look!" You're interrupted from your musings when he stops and points to a building. "I know that place. Let's rent a room!"

You panic as he pulls you along (yet you say nothing); you watch as he takes out a credit card and rents a room for the night. And then he's pulling you up some stairs and into a small room. It's nothing like your current bedroom: no elegant furniture and clean carpet, no gorgeous man lying in bed waiting for… Oh, wait, scratch that.

Jaejoong stares at you from the edge of the bed. His eyes say all you need to know. You're sure yours do, too.

"What are you waiting for?"

He squeals when you push him back on the bed, kissing him soundly. No use lying to yourself.

**Title: Faking**

"Is dinner done yet?"

You smile at Changmin as he comes to stand beside you at the kitchen counter. He looks tired today, but you aren't surprised, not with the amount of schoolwork he has these days. Changmin comes home cranky more often than not, starving and ready to fall face first in bed. You're not much different, but, since you're home earlier sometimes, you cook dinner or buy takeout.

Today, you met by chance downstairs. He wanted to cook dinner, but you offered so he could finish some homework.

"Almost," you reply. He smiles at you and leans his head on your shoulder.

"I'm tired," he whines.

You lean your head against his (ignoring the guilt stabbing at you every second you stand there, lying).

"Sit at the table? I'll bring everything over."

You eat together and he tells you all about his day at school, and how he has been having some trouble with his counselor regarding possible postgraduate plans, and how he wishes he had listened to his skeptic aunts and uncles when they told him music would get him nowhere. Then he smiles when you tell him it's his life and no one should have to decide for him (you ignore the little voice in your head that reminds you that you never followed that piece of advice).

Afterwards, he gets up and stretches, only to cry out and clasp at his right shoulder. You're at his side immediately; as soon as you touch him, you feel how tense his shoulders are.

"Come on, I'll give you a massage."

He doesn't protest, but allows you to lead him into the bedroom. Once his shirt is off, he lies on the bed; you straddle his hips, the bottle of oil already in your hand.

"Shit!" He groans as you start working on the tight muscles. Changmin frequently accuses you of working too hard, but he seems to ignore his own health, his own needs. He spends too much time studying, too much time worrying about the future, about his career, about whether or not he'll ever be able to contribute to the home you've built together (while you're out there, spending nights away from home to see the one person you shouldn't).

As soon as his muscles relax, he sighs. You would go on, but you're tired, too, ready to get under the covers and escape to your dreamland.

"Yoochun," he says sleepily, eyes closing.

"Hmm?" You get off him and lie next to him. Changmin is so beautiful, you could stare at him forever, at his eyes and his nose and his amazing lips. Why must you leave this room? Why must you go out and look for something (someone) who isn't there anymore?

"I love you."

His words make your breath hitch. They hang over you, reminders of what you have, of what you can't lose.

He's already asleep, but you can only stare at the ceiling. This will be a long night.

**Title: Maze**

"Hey, you guys want a drink?" Jaejoong asks, showing everyone a bottle of wine.

"Whoa!" Hyukjae is the first one to react, getting on his feet and taking the bottle with the utmost care. "But, isn't this really expensive?"

"Yup," Jaejoong replies, already placing glasses on the table, before grabbing the bottle and opening it. "It was a gift. No use letting it go to waste, is there?"

You accept a glass—the aroma invades your senses and the liquid makes you close your eyes, the taste wonderful and unexpected. Next to you, Changmin hums his approval. Junsu and Hyukjae look equally pleased.

Yunho, on the other hand, hasn't touched his glass.

"You should try it," Hyukjae tells him, smiling in wonder.

Jaejoong laughs softly before he begins to clean up the dinner table. You're about to offer some help, when Junsu acts before you, pushing back his chair and encouraging the rest of you to go sit in the living room. Changmin grabs your hand and pulls you along. There's something about him tonight, about the way he moves and looks at you, that speaks loudly. He keeps smiling and gazing at you dreamy-eyed. You keep wondering what will happen when you get home (you keep wanting to say goodbye to the others and get to your place, to your room, where he is the only man that exists in the world).

Junsu comes back soon enough, and it isn't long before you start feeling like the odd man out. Your lover and your friends, including Yunho, love music and movies and books; they don’t care about ads or business or statistics or surveys.

You're almost glad when your bladder signals it's time for a bathroom break, and you leave with a muttered "Excuse me" to your lover.

 _How much more of this?_ you wonder as you wash your hands. You don't want to be here; you don't want to look at yourself in the mirror and see the pathetic, lying scum you have become. Changmin deserves better than you. And you, you deserve Jaejoong all right, you deserve all the hurt and the tears and everything he has made you go through since you met him.

_A tad too melodramatic?_

You sigh and open the door, ready to go back to the usual torture. However, the sound of a pair of voices stops you.

"You're being irrational!" Jaejoong says, clearly upset. He's not yelling, but rather trying to keep his voice down.

"I'm not!" Ah, lovers' spat?

You resist the urge to snort, and start out of the bathroom.

"You stopped taking them, didn't you?"

Yunho's words stop you in your tracks.

"Yunho…"

"Don't start about me being a nag." You think you hear Yunho sigh impatiently. "Jae, I just want you to live."

"You want me to live?" Jaejoong snorts derisively. "You call this life?"

"Jaejoong…"

"This isn't life! This isn't me, just some stupid shell who can’t think or feel or anything!"

He's screaming by now—he sounds so angry it hurts.

"Is that who you love? A man you can't even fuck because-?"

"Stop!" Yunho yells. That's your cue, you decide, and you go back to the living room. The music and the chatter mask the fight you're sure is still ongoing in the bedroom.

You sit next to Changmin and hold his hand. When they come back, you pretend everything is all right.

But you never forget.

**Title: Pride**

"Share," he says, and you do, passing him your lit cigarette without a second thought. He exhales; you watch as thin tendrils of smoke cloud his face.

Another dark room, another late night. Another mindless fuck. He holds out his hand, he gives you a look, and it's all you need to go to him. You don't know why you do it. Maybe you're addicted? Probably, to his kisses and his body, and the feel of his skin, and the way he moans and begs, and when he takes you, overpowering you and you don't resist him at all…

"Stop thinking," he tells you, handing back your cigarette. "You'll hurt your pretty head."

You scoff.

"Too late," you reply before taking a drag. "It was damaged a long time ago."

This time, he scoffs.

"You're such a drama queen," he says, looking straight at you. "You always have been."

"Oh?" He takes the cigarette when you offer it to him. "Then you must love drama."

He laughs softly.

"Nah." He pauses to take another drag. "I only love you."

Your heart skips a beat; you swallow thickly. Should you ask? Should you voice what you've always wondered?

"Do you?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you love me?" The way he smiles, you think he might be making fun of you, but you can't shake the feeling that you're reading him wrong (that you have all along).

"Of course I love you!" He puts out the cigarette before gesturing for the pack on your side table. You watch him as he lights another, his lips sucking on the end of the thin cylinder—it brings back memories of earlier in the evening—and then the pack is back in your hand. "Why would you even wonder? I thought it was obvious."

"Why would you think it was? You disappeared on me back when…"

"Oh, not this again," he complains, rolling his eyes. He sits up and starts pulling on his clothes.

"Why can't you just tell me?" You only want to know what happened. Is that too much to ask?

"Why can’t you just let it go?" He zips up his jeans, then sits on the bed to put on his boots. "It happened years ago. You’d think you'd be over it by now…"

Why can't he realize how important this is to you? And how much he hurt you?

"Jaejoong…"

"Just forget about it. Go back to your pretty boy and I'll go back home, and we can forget all about it…"

"Fuck you!"

He turns to you, surprised by your outburst. You've never been one to yell, not even at him back when he was an absolute prick (you think you've surprised yourself, too).

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you go on, feeling stronger. "Every time you come back into my life, you fuck everything up. Like now. Don't you think I was happy with Changmin? But, no, you just had to come in and push me to do whatever the hell you want."

His eyes widen and he laughs.

"Oh, so it's my fault you can't keep it in your pants?"

You want to hurt him now. Seriously. But you stop yourself—no use getting worked up over something so stupid.

"Fine," you say, grabbing your clothes.

He says nothing, only watches as you finish getting dressed and walk out of the room. You're tired of breaking promises—to yourself, to Changmin, to your friends. Maybe it's time to come clean. Maybe it's time to end this for once and for all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: Worn**

"Here are the files you requested, sir."

You thank your assistant as she hands you about five folders, all previous studies done for a food and snacks company. This company in particular has never been easy to work with: they lack the patience required to get accurate results, and they push and push, until you want to send them all to hell (you think you will one of these days). This time, though, you welcome the added workload. You know you'll spend nights awake with this. Just what you need.

He hasn't called since you walked out on him over a week ago. You don't know why you thought he would, wasn't he clear enough?

_"Just forget about it. Go back to your pretty boy and I'll go back home and we can forget all about it..."_

If he really did care about you, wouldn't he tell you all about his situation? You feel like you're just a distraction, from Yunho, perhaps? From a life he hates? And that conversation you overheard that night not long ago…

You sigh, shaking your head and focusing on the files in front of you. There they are, the numbers and tables from one of the previous studies on the same product. The company wants to reach a broader market, not just children and teenagers, but young adults at the least. Why don't they buy the product? Don't the advertisements appeal to them? If they don't, why not? And, damn it, this means making up a whole new questionnaire, because these previous studies dealt with the current market and-

Your cell phone rings just as you're beginning to get annoyed. As soon as you look at the screen, though, you smile in relief.

"Changmin," you answer.

"Yoochun," he replies, and he sounds like he's smiling. "How's work treating you?"

"Could be better." You don't complain as much anymore, not when you know he'll just tell you to apply for a job elsewhere. "How about you?"

"Oh, taking a break from studying. I have a class in half an hour, so I'm just walking around, give my butt a rest and all," and he laughs softly, sounding rather happy, you think. "Anyway, just wanted to check up on you, and ask what time you're coming home."

"I'm going home straight from work. As far as I know."

"Hmm." He hates when you imply that you could be working late. "You better come straight home," he says. "Love you."

"I love you."

As soon as you hang up, you let out a sigh. You want to come clean with your lover, but you keep putting it off. Maybe, if you just tell him… Then again, you don't want to see _him_ ever again, so, does it really matter anymore?

You forget about it soon enough, you go back to work. No use thinking about it now.

**Title: Insecure**

"It's been so long since we last went out, just the two of us," he says, smiling widely as you walk out of the movie theater. Thinking on it, it's true (going out to Junsu's and Yunho's does not count at all). You know it's your fault in some ways, like that night when you could have gone home and stayed with him, but chose to go see Jaejoong instead—no, no more thinking about _him_.

He sighs happily when you hold his hand briefly. He seems so happy lately, so comfortable, less stressed despite schoolwork. Even when you fight over the amount of work you bring home these days, he's calmer, more willing to listen, less cold. This is the way it should be, you think.

"I'm in the mood for ice cream," he announces, suddenly. You ate popcorn and candy at the movies, but Changmin can't end a date without ice cream; it has been a tradition ever since your first date. You love thinking about those days, when you were both so uncertain, maybe even scared, about the way you felt about each other. When he asked you to move in, you knew there would not be anyone else after him—even now, you feel this way.

_I almost lost this_ , you think to yourself, listening to him go on about a book he's reading for his Japanese literature elective. He loves to read, almost as much as he loves writing and playing music. ("Why not study literature or philosophy?" you asked him once, only months after the beginning of your relationship. "Because they're not my passion," he told you.) The ice cream shop isn't far now, and you're about to answer a question, when he suddenly puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Isn't that Yunho? And Jaejoong?" he asks. You nearly hurt your neck when you turn to look at the place he's pointing at. Sure enough, there they are, the mysterious couple, walking on the other side of the street. You want to tell Changmin not to call them—maybe they're out on a date and want to be alone, or maybe they're headed somewhere and you shouldn't interrupt—but Changmin is already waving at them and calling their names. Yunho sees you and smiles, grabbing his lover's wrist and crossing the street.

"Hey, how are you?" the dancer asks, smiling brightly. You greet them as usual, but it's Changmin who makes up all of the conversation from your side—all the while unaware that you and Jaejoong are looking at each other, eyes fixed on the other—while Yunho reacts just as enthusiastically. Finally, you look away, unwilling to give him the satisfaction that, yes, you miss him. You sigh, wondering if you could get away with a smoke; Changmin hates it when you do so near him.

"Oh, we're going to have some ice cream over at that shop," you hear your partner say. Oh, no. "Would you like to join us?"

"We wouldn't like to intrude…," Yunho begins, and he's so polite, so genuine, so damned nice you just can't dislike him for another second.

"You wouldn't be intruding. Right, Yoochun?"

You can see how much Changmin wants the company, so you nod and agree.

"You won't be intruding," you say (though you'd rather say _Yes, we're on a date, friends don't come along on dates!_ ).

Jaejoong looks surprised, but he hides it soon enough, agreeing to come along.

"I could never say no to ice cream," he says, grabbing at Yunho's arm as you resume walking. "Right, Yoochun?"

**Title: Whisper**

"Did you hear the latest on the freak?"

He walks through the main gate and then a straight path to the main school building. He's not very tall, but pale and he has the blackest hair you've ever seen. Some girls like him, though they all deny it, but you know they do—he isn't bad looking, after all.

"Do tell," your girlfriend tells her friend. You don't care about gossip, but your girlfriend and her friends indulge in it every single day. Right now, you know more about your classmates than you ever cared to know. And then there're your own friends, who also care way too much about other people's lives. What is this fascination with the rest of the world? Aren't your own lives problematic enough without adding strangers into the mix?

"I heard he's hanging out around _that_ part of town." A couple of the girls open their eyes wide in interest. "And they have seen him with some guy, kissing."

You sigh. It's the same every day, rumors and more rumors, mostly about him: he's a homosexual, a drug addict, and he gets drunk with older men; he even sleeps with that History teacher rumored to be like _that_. There must be a reason, though, right? So much "information" can't be unfounded.

"How can he?" your girlfriend says, scrunching her nose in disgust. "I mean, two guys… Just, eww."

You want to call her out for her hypocrisy: you've seen her nearly drooling over the manhwa over at the shops near the park you meet at for your dates. Nevertheless, you keep quiet. It's one thing to fantasize and another to meet someone who lives the reality. Guys are supposed to have girlfriends, you're supposed to fall in love and get married and have children. That's what your parents have always taught you, and you agree with them wholeheartedly.

The bell rings and you grab your girlfriend's bag and then your own. You always walk her to her classroom, like any dedicated boyfriend should. Once at the door, she kisses your cheek and smiles at you. She's so pretty, with long dark hair in a ponytail, and bright brown eyes, and rosy lips you want to kiss right now. You say goodbye and turn around to go to your own classroom, only to see _him_ surrounded by three or four upperclassmen.

Are they harassing him? First, you wonder; later you're sure, as one of them grabs him forcefully then shoves him. You're torn: should you let them do as they will or should you find a teacher?

Thankfully, you're saved from having to make a decision: one of your teachers appears and reprimands everyone not in their classrooms. You sigh in relief, still looking at him, watching as he bends to pick up his backpack. As soon as he straightens up, he looks your way by chance and your eyes meet.

You look away immediately and hurry to your classroom. You'll forget about him soon enough.

**Title: Apologies**

_"Yoochunnie."_

Your boss commended you for the progress made on the latest project. You hate it when he does that. Does he do it because he means it? Or just because he knows you'll get stressed out and worry nonstop over its success until it inevitably does become a success? He doesn't care if you end up sick afterwards, but, keep the client happy. 

Fuck the damn clients.

Once it's time to leave the office, you can't get out of there fast enough. You want to go home, you want to shower and eat dinner and watch some television before inevitably crashing. Hopefully, Changmin will be home and you can spend some time together. He studies too much and too hard, and you hate seeing him so tired; you hate it more when you get home and he's already asleep. You walk out of the building and head toward the parking lot, when you hear _his_ voice.

You turn around and see him, standing nearby, smoking. He looks tired (like he did back before you started seeing each other secretly), eyes unreadable, lips parted slightly as he exhales white wisps of smoke. You want to keep on walking, you want to ignore him and go home, where you're safe and loved and nothing hurts you.

"Can we talk?" It always starts like this. You close your eyes briefly, willing yourself to speak, to say no for once!

"I'd rather not." (Inside, you want nothing more than to go to him and kiss him and never let him go). 

He exhales, then presses his lips together, a telltale sign of both annoyance and desperation—he never did like being refused.

"Look, I'm sorry about what I said," he apologizes at once. "But you've got to understand me, okay? I do want to tell you…"

"Could have fooled me." You shake your head, trying to push away frustration and annoyance. "I really don't want to talk. I'd rather we never saw each other again, not alone. Changmin… I don't want to lie to him anymore."

He doesn't move, only narrows his eyes.

"I don't want to leave Yunho, either," he says. "But I need you, Yoochun." Your breath catches when he looks at you. "I really do."

This is it, you realize, the moment when you must decide what to do. Can you say no to him, though? You're so tired, you don't want to go on in circles anymore.

"Let's go have dinner, my treat," he says finally, a soft smile on his lips (its sight is enough for your defenses to start crumbling). "And then we can both go home. And just be friends."

A part of you wonders, _Can I believe him? Is he being honest with me?_ (Another part of you insists that you go with him, no matter the consequences, take what you want, regardless of any pain you may suffer later).

"Yoochunnie?"

You sigh again, but you're already stepping toward him.

"My car is this way," you say, gesturing toward the next building.

He smiles at your words. You can only berate yourself for being an idiot.

**Title: Anger**

"I love you," he says softly. He and Yunho are sitting only a few feet away, holding hands, Jaejoong looking at him like he's the most amazing being on earth (and maybe he is).

Yunho laughs softly, eyes bright, before he leans forward to catch his lips in a sweet kiss.

"I love you, too."

You want to throw up. Seriously. Is that what you and Changmin look like when you're together? Except no, you don't actually kiss where other people can see you. Changmin tends to hold your hand, to keep you close, but he's very reserved when it comes to other displays of affection. Well, unless he's drunk—you will never forget one of those nights when you had just moved in together and your friends had come over to dinner, and you ended up making out on the sofa for all to see.

These two, however…

"Here," Changmin says, handing you a cold bottle. You thank him before drinking straight from it. Maybe the alcohol can help you forget what is happening right next to you (and maybe it can kill the jealousy that stabs at you with every tender glance between them).

"Where's Junsu?" you ask your partner, finally looking away from the loving couple.

"Kitchen. He kicked me out," Changmin answers, grinning, before he drinks from his own bottle.

Which meant, in other words, that he and Hyukjae were busy in there. What the hell is going on?

"I'm tired," Changmin says, suddenly, leaning against you. You put your arm around his shoulders, and he leans against you, letting out a sigh. 

"Want to leave?" you ask softly. He shakes his head.

"We need this," he says. You wonder what he means, exactly, but you don't ask, too comfortable at the moment (though you haven't exactly forgotten what's happening next to you).

Soon enough, the hosts appear with food (and slightly swollen lips, though you choose not to tease them about it). They look happy and calm and you hate them for just one moment (because they don't live with the uncertainty that is your life lately).

"Yunho, get me something to drink?" he asks in that almost childish voice you're so familiar with. Yunho laughs again but stands up to do as asked. He's perfect, you think, devoted. Were you not devoted to _him_ all those years ago? Did you not love him enough?

"Hey, do you guys want to go see a movie next weekend?" Hyukjae asks suddenly. Finally, you can think about something else.

**Title: Mistakes**

"Fuck me," he begs under you. He pulls you down for a wet, open mouthed kiss. You try not to give in to it—you're too close already—but you let yourself go for just a moment, loving the feeling of his lips on yours.

"Meet me today," he told you right after lunch. You didn't expect his phone call today—you usually meet on days you're sure neither Yunho nor Changmin will wonder if you both go missing for a few hours—but you had no desire to refuse him. He's all you think about lately, even while in your lover's arms (you feel guilty about it, but you tell yourself that it's just the thrill that keeps you going back to your first love).

When he lets go, you get the both of you ready, and then you're breaching his body. He gasps as you enter him, eyes hooded, hair drenched with sweat. You love how his skin glistens under the cheap lighting, so perfect. How appropriate, you think, that this place is so ugly and dark: it only serves to enhance his beauty; it makes your secret love seem pure in contrast. 

He moans louder, moving his hips in time with your thrusts. He seemed so stressed when you met him at the hotel, but now he has finally let himself go; you wonder if he even realizes what he's doing and who he's with. You don't care, though: you want him, you have him, here, yours and only yours, no one else in the way.

You grab his erection when you feel yourself getting closer—you don't have much time left, you need to get home before Changmin does—pumping in time with your thrusts. He doesn't move to help, only throws his head back, moaning incoherently (you think you hear your name, but that could just be you, hoping, as always). So, you focus on him, you give him what he asks for— _Harder! More!_ —until his body goes taut, his breath gone for just that one moment, and then he's coming hard; he's so beautiful, his mouth open, eyes closed, you can only watch him. When you finally climax, you're surprised; you can only close your eyes, hold on to his body until you can't anymore.

You feel when he slips the condom off you, and then he holds you in his arms, kissing your lips tenderly.

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. You don't say it back.

**Title: Lies**

"Jaejoong doesn't seem all right anymore," Junsu remarks. "Has he called you?"

It's your day off and Junsu invited you out to lunch. You thought about declining, but you haven't really been out together for weeks. Maybe you could relax for a while, forget about your stupid personal drama for a few hours.

Junsu doesn't help.

"Why would he call me?" you snap at him. Your best friend gives you a pointed look.

"Because it's what he does."

You sigh (your chest heavy with the lies and the guilt). It isn't like you can say he's wrong.

"He hasn't. We're not friends, just acquaintances, if you haven't noticed."

"And then there's the things I _do_ notice," Junsu replies.

You don't meet his gaze (too afraid of giving yourself away). Nevertheless, you're intent on denying anything he may be implying.

"And what do you notice?" you challenge, finally looking directly at him. He shrugs, briefly playing with the food on his plate.

"Jaejoong and Yunho… I think they're in trouble." He looks worried. "And Jaejoong… He seems to be… I don't know, more like the guy I met when you and I were together."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Junsu is too perceptive for his own good, you think, and he worries too much, too.

"Forget about them," you tell him. Junsu nods in agreement. "How are you and Hyukjae? You don't tell me stuff like you used to!"

"That's because we're boring," he replies, face turning a shade of pink. "I can only tell you the same things I always do."

You smile at him. The two of them are so sweet together, no matter how much time has gone by. You sigh, staring down at your food. Why must you be so stupid? Why can't you be like Junsu and Hyukjae and stick to the one person you're supposed to be with?

Suddenly, he grabs your hand and holds it. He doesn't say anything, just goes on eating. You hold on to him, taking what he's offering, because you need it, you do, or else you will crumble and then… 

**Title: Sorrow**

"You have a meeting at their office tomorrow," your assistant drones on. Tomorrow, you have several meetings, a lunch and even a dinner. That means less time at home, less time for you, and you're not feeling very well at the moment.

"The meeting starts at nine on the dot." She shoots you a quick glance. "They've requested you arrive before eight forty-five."

She goes on after you nod, signaling that yes, you understand, and no, you won't be late. Right now, you don't really care about work, though. No, there's only two people on your mind, two people you can't live without, and you keep wondering when you'll finally explode. Every time Changmin tells you he loves you, every time you reply with the same words… Every time Jaejoong calls and you go to him, because you just don't know how to say no, you don't want to deny yourself the chance of being with him…

"And then you have the… Sir, are you all right?"

You're unable to reply: you rush out of the office and into the nearest bathroom before you lose your entire lunch.

"Fuck," you mutter, just before you heave again.

Once you think you're done, you rinse your mouth and splash water on your face. You don't bother looking in the mirror; you can imagine what you look like: sick, tired, pathetic. Your suspicions are confirmed when you run into your boss and his eyes widen at your sight.

Less than ten minutes later, you're in your car and on your way home. You tried to convince your boss that you were fine, that you could go on working, except tomorrow is a huge day.

"I need you at your best tomorrow," he told you. "Go home and rest."

You sigh, hating this. Your hands are shaking, your throat and stomach hurt, and you just want to go home and to your bed and stay there forever. Or at least until you stop feeling like you're dying. You almost crash into another car before you're finally near your building and in the parking lot.

"Stop being an idiot," you tell yourself harshly, forcing your limbs to do as you command.

You feel better as soon as you walk into your apartment building; somehow you start feeling at peace. _Finally home_ , you think, closing your eyes inside the elevator. These days, you feel tired, suffocated, especially whenever away from home. Even with Jaejoong, it feels like you need to run away, no matter how much you want him.

_Pull yourself together_ , you think to yourself as the elevator doors open and you walk up to your door. 

The apartment is silent. You aren't surprised, since Changmin is supposed to be at school now. He really studies too much. You keep wondering if maybe you should get away for a weekend soon, just the two of you. Maybe that could kill temptation (if just for a while).

You take off your jacket and walk to your bedroom, desiring nothing more than to go to bed.

Except you can't.

Changmin is deeply asleep, his hair mussed, dark skin completely bare. You would stop and admire him, if only there wasn't another man half sprawled over him. He looks strong, toned—everything you're not lately—tall, almost as tall as Changmin himself, you think. It takes you a few seconds to recognize him, but, when you do, you choke, your heart beats faster, and you realize you need to get out of there.

_Isn't this ironic?_ you think as you find a bag and start grabbing clothes from your dresser and the closet. You focus on your immediate needs—you need a fancy suit for tomorrow, you need everyday clothes and underwear, and shoes—before you head into the bathroom to grab toiletries.

You've grabbed another bag and moved into the office space when you hear your lover's voice, just behind you.

"Yoo-Yoochun!" He sounds horrified, but you don't look at him; instead, you grab files you need for tomorrow's meetings.

"Yoochun." Now he sounds desperate, about to cry, so you turn around to face him. He's wearing shorts now, tears running down his face. You want to tell him that it doesn't matter, that you're as bad as him, if not worse, but you're too tired, you just want to forget about the world. "Let me explain," he says, but you shake your head.

"Tomorrow," is all you say, before you grab your bags and walk out. You think he calls you once again, but you ignore him, you need to.

Or else you truly will break.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: Away**

_"How can I tell him the truth? If he finds out what really happened… I'll be disgraced!"_

The TV is on, it has been on all day, but you have ignored it. Like you ignore everything else.

Your cellphone hasn't stopped ringing for the past three days, not since the morning after you found Changmin with… You sigh, refusing to glance at the caller ID. You already know who it is, but you don't feel like answering. _Selfish bastard_ , you tell yourself, yet not even self-recrimination pushes you to do what you should.

The scene is still so fresh in your mind, the sight of them together in bed. How long have they been sleeping together? Did it just happen? Do they know about you and Jaejoong? When did Changmin stop loving you? You wonder over and over, these and a hundred other questions making you feel smaller and smaller until you just want to curl up into a ball and die.

 _He_ hasn't called. Yet. Does he know? You wonder if Yunho told him, how Jaejoong took it. Was he angry? Hurt? Did he go into one of his weird rampages? There were a few times, back when you were kids, when he would suddenly lose it… No, you don't want to remember. Even if he's acting a lot like he did before he reappeared with Yunho, he's not that person anymore.

The phone starts ringing again. You haven't been home since that night, first busy with work. Once you were finished with important matters, you asked for a few days off. Your boss was—is—beyond happy with your performance, so he didn't deny you the needed time off. However, now you wish you were at work, where you have _something_ to think about, something to do rather than stare listlessly at the wall or at the television screen.

_"You shouldn't have lied to him! He loved you…"_

_"No, he loved that I was pure, naive. Innocent. But he didn't love me…"_

You sigh, reaching for the remote and turning the TV off. Once upon a time, you enjoyed dramas very much, but you've seen one too many, plots recycled over and over. Like this one, where the girl lied to marry a rich guy while in love with another man. _Utter bullshit_ , you think to yourself, lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling.

Your cellphone starts ringing again, but you don't recognize this ringer tone—it's simple and silly, nothing like the last song Changmin composed for a class project, which you converted into a ringer, nor Junsu's favorite H.O.T. song. As soon as you look at the small screen, you wish you hadn't.

Why is this guy calling you? Why in the world, after everything that has happened…?

He calls again; you can feel the sense of urgency in each ring (you don't care how absurd that may sound). You should answer, you know.

So you do.

**Title: Darkness**

"I can't wait to finish school."

Jaejoong leans back in the front seat of the car, a smile on his lips. It's Saturday and the sky has finally begun to change colors. Sunrise is imminent (for some reason, you wish the sky would stay dark and the stars to never go away), reminding you that you spent an entire night away from home and your father will probably give you hell for it. You can't really complain, though: here you are, sitting next to the boy you love, watching as the waves reach shore before receding, the water now beginning to shimmer as the sun peeks over the horizon.

Last night, Jaejoong appeared at your house, a sweet smile on his lips as soon as you came out to greet him. He has been like this these past couple of weeks, happy, truly happy, his smiles reaching his eyes (beautiful and contagious and absolutely wonderful). You have followed him anywhere and everywhere he asks (his willing slave), skipping school and spending obscene amounts of time away from home (thus your father's continued warnings, as if taking away your TV and phone privileges mattered one bit).

The moon shone brightly as you snuck out; it continued to light your path as you drove further away from the world you knew (inside, you wished you could just keep going, "Step on it!" Jaejoong teased, laughing as you threatened to do just that). Once at your usual spot, the radio on, he kissed you and you truly forgot the rest of the world.

Hours later, both of you happy and sated, the drinks and snacks you brought along nearly gone, you notice he's smiling more brightly than he has all night.

"That makes two of us," you tell him, smiling back. "Too bad we still have over a year to go."

He shrugs, whining slightly as he stretches.

"It's less than a year ago. Besides, I was thinking…"

"Oh, my God! The world is ending!" You laugh when he swats at your arm.

"Asshole," is his halfhearted comeback, but you let it go. "I was thinking…" (you can only watch him as his expression changes from happy to thoughtful to unsure) "If things go as planned, I have a friend near the university you applied to and, he has an apartment for rent…"

You refuse to finish his thought—he's so unpredictable, but you can't help but hope for what you think he is implying. Your heart beats faster, time goes slower, his pause so long you almost want to scream…

"So, maybe, if you want to, we could rent together? I can get a job and I know you'll-"

"Yes!" you blurt out, and he gazes at you, visibly shocked, but happy and could life be any more wonderful?

You nearly throw yourself at him, hugging him tightly; his lips soon find yours, each kiss a promise. 

**Title: Rubble**

"We need to talk."

The streets are bustling with people, as usual, everyone going about their business. You, however, glide through the crowds, invisible (or so you believe) among hundreds of ignorant fools. They laugh or frown, or walk with blank expressions, all unaware that you who strolls by quietly are the loudest of them all (inside, you scream, your heart helplessly cries out in pain).

"Where?" You were surprised when your voice didn't crack when you answered the phone. How many days since the last time you had spoken?

The small restaurant isn't far from your current dwelling, so you expect to be there early. He surprises you, though: there he is, standing just outside the door, smoking while staring at the ground. Is he nervous? You hope he is—you keep willing your legs to stop shaking with every step forward; you're afraid they'll give out underneath you and the humiliation will be greater still.

Somehow, you come up to him, you stop a few feet away and call out his name. He looks up, startled (though he tries to hide it), but soon a mix between anger and indifference replaces the initial surprise. You watch as he drops the cigarette on the pavement—he crushes it under his shoe, perhaps with more force than necessary—before he turns to you.

"You're early," he says. It sounds like an accusation; you choose to ignore his tone.

The restaurant is almost empty, and you're seated near the window. He doesn’t waste any time, ordering drinks and something light to eat. However, he doesn't seem in a hurry to talk. He doesn't spare you a glance as he takes the first sip, gazing down at the table.

"You need to call Changmin," the sound of his voice catches you off guard. He speaks softly, but firmly. You can't help but frown; you want to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. "He hasn't left the apartment since…" He doesn't need to finish—you're glad he doesn't.

So, they have kept in contact. It shouldn't surprise you; they're lovers, after all. But then, what about…?

"So, how is Jaejoong?"

He catches you off guard once again. You can only stare at him, wide-eyed.

"What are you talking about? He isn't with me." No matter how much you wish he was.

He finally looks at you, worry obscuring his features.

"What do you mean he isn't? He said he would stay with you!" Yunho takes a deep breath, closing his eyes as he realizes that he has raised his voice. "He hasn't called?"

"No." You swallow hard, quickly grabbing your cellphone and scanning through the few dozen missed calls registered. "No, he hasn't. You told him?"

"Of course I told him," Yunho nearly barks.

"Why? He didn't need to know!" Jaejoong had told you, not too long ago, that he was nothing without Yunho…

"I didn't want to risk having you tell him."

"I wasn't going to!"

"Well, you don't know shit about his condition, so I wasn't taking any chances." He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and calming down. His words only serve to remind you that he knows Jaejoong much better than you ever could. You want to ask, what condition? What's wrong with Jaejoong?

"How is Changmin?" you ask instead. Yunho sighs again.

"Miserable." Yunho acts as though that is enough of an answer. "Call him. He really needs to talk to you. And you need to come clean with him, too."

You nod absentmindedly, briefly wondering whether Yunho has told your partner about your own betrayal.

It doesn't matter, though. You'll find out soon enough.

**Title: Tainted**

"Don't forget to call him," he reminds you when you part ways.

You and Yunho agree to keep in touch in case Jaejoong calls. Now you're headed back to the hotel and to the deafening silence of your small room.

The lights stay off, the drapes closed. You only want to lie down, close your eyes, and pretend that this is all a nightmare. You know you can't, though; you're not a child, you need to own up to your mistakes.

Once again, you lie down and stare at your cellphone. It's easy to find his number—your number one, ever since you started dating—and you look at the digits, at the send button.

"He really needs to talk to you," Yunho told you. However, you just can't bring yourself to hear his voice. You don't want him to tell you that your relationship is over, that he loves Yunho… that he knows about you and Jaejoong…

You sigh, lying back and staring at the ceiling. Your boss expects you back the day after tomorrow, so it's only logical that you take care of any and all personal issues before then. _Just tap the damn button_ , you tell yourself, grabbing the phone again. You take a deep breath, finger poised; however, it rings right then, startling the hell out of you.

"Fuck!" You have to stop when you recognize the ringer. Your heart beats faster, the anxiety mounts until you can barely breathe. It's now or never, you remind yourself. So, you tap the answer button.

You're only met with silence. It feels like your throat has closed and you've lost the ability to speak. He's there, however—his breath hitches, as if he starts to speak and then stops a few times. Is this what the two of you are reduced to now? Listening to each other's breathing on the phone, unable to speak even one word?

"Yoo-Yoochun."

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Hearing his voice fills you with relief, it even makes you happy, despite the circumstances.

"Are you there?" His voice is nearly a whisper, but you can tell he has been crying recently. At once, you feel miserable, guilty. If only you hadn't given in to your own desires, maybe none of this would have happened.

"I'm here," you reply. You hear him take a deep breath.

"How… how have you been?" He sounds horribly nervous, but you can't blame him (your hands and jaw are trembling).

"Could be better." Much, much better. "How are you?"

He takes a deep breath—or he sighs, you can't really tell—and when he next speaks, you wish you had never asked.

"Bad," he says, and now you're sure he's crying. "I just… I want to fucking die right now."

Your heart beats faster; you close your eyes, searching for something—anything—you can say to make him feel better.

"Don't," and it's the most you can do right now. "Changmin, whatever happened, I'm responsible, too…"

"No…"

"You knew, didn't you? About Jaejoong and me?"

He swallows (it sounds painfully loud through the phone).

"I knew you were seeing him. Yunho told me." The admission doesn't surprise you at all. You should have seen it all coming, maybe it was always there for you to see but you had chosen to ignore it. "It doesn't make me feel any better about cheating on you."

You sigh (you're sick of staring at the ceiling by now, so you move to lie on your side; the wall isn't any better).

"Changmin…"

"I want to see you," he says suddenly; it's in the way he says it, you know he's honest and you wish you could gather up the courage to tell him you feel the same way. "I want to talk face to face. I miss you."

You close your eyes.

"I miss you, too."

**Title: Alone**

"What are you writing?"

He sits on the ground, furiously writing in a notebook. He has spent most of lunch period like that, barely talking. You're used to it, of course, but it doesn't stop you from asking.

"Nothing," he replies, glaring at you. "Don't be nosy."

"It's just a question." One of so many he refuses to answer these days.

The bell signaling the end of lunch break will ring in just a few minutes, so you start picking up your stuff (including the little blue flower he gave you when you met near your house before school this morning). Once you're done, you sigh, looking around. You're rather far away from your school mates, as usual. Some of them—usually the stupid bullies—watch you from afar, even threaten you with gestures. However, you ignore them, hanging on to Jaejoong.

As soon as the bell rings, you stand up and start toward the main building, until you realize that he isn't walking behind you.

"Hyung," you call out. "Remember what the teacher said last time."

"Go on," he tells you, though, waving dismissively.

You sigh and do as he asks.

Afternoon classes begin, but he doesn't come back. You think he may just have gotten distracted with whatever it is he was writing and hope he'll come to next period.

He never does.

**Title: Breathe**

"Hi." 

The day you finally return to work, you go home afterwards—not the hotel, but _home_. It feels strange to use your apartment keys after nearly a week; the familiarity of it all—the things you and your partner own, the delicious smells coming from the kitchen—feels even stranger, and you almost want to turn around and run away.

You don't get a chance. Only seconds after you close and lock the front door, _he_ appears, nearly running.

"Hi," he says nothing else—his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard—at least until you answer. Somehow, he manages to smile.

"Dinner's ready, so we can sit down," he tells you, leading the way. You can feel he wants to act as if nothing had ever happened, but you're both awkward around each other, even as you take your usual seats and start dinner.

He makes small talk ("How's work? Did anything interesting happen? …Oh, my teachers are giving me an extension. I haven't… been feeling up to doing schoolwork"), though you wish he wouldn't. You wish you could just sit there in silence, savoring these precious minutes, because you know, as much as it hurts, that this is the last time you will eat together like this.

You help clean up once you've finished. Doing dishes never felt like a chore when you did it together. It was always fun, your conversations lively; you frequently ended up soaked when he grabbed the little hose and started a water fight. You always ended up making love after that.

This time, he leans against the counter, barely able to look at you. You stand against the wall, unable to keep your eyes off him. He's so beautiful, always has been, ever since that night at Junsu's birthday party. How could you not fall in love with him? It was inevitable…

"When do you want me to pick up my things?" you ask, choosing not to wait any longer.

He bites his lower lip, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Have you found a new place, yet?" he asks.

"No." 

You're surprised when tears run down his face; he tries to cover them, but you don't let him, crossing over to him and holding him tightly. He cries on your shoulder, each sob so painful you can feel them as well. And you hate yourself for doing this to him, for hurting him. _I deserve to hurt as much if not more_ , you think (your chests are pressed so close together you can barely breathe, but you refuse to let go).

How long do you stand there? You have no idea. You do know that at some point he kisses you and you kiss back, closing your eyes and pouring your heart into it. You love him, there's no denying it, but you love Jaejoong more, you always will, and fuck, _why?_

Exhaustion conquers you both soon enough; you end up leading him into the living room and to the couch (the couch on which you made love countless times, where you watched TV together, or just talked until you fell asleep). Once there you see just how tired he really is, his eyes red-rimmed and dark. 

"I'm so sorry." His voice breaks (as if you weren't to blame). Why? You want to ask, but he speaks right then, voice rough. "I love you so much, and this has to happen. And, I never meant to be with him, honest…"

"Changmin…" He will just go on and on if you don't stop him. "Whatever happened, to us as a couple, I'm just as responsible if not more." 

But he only shakes his head.

"I knew about Jaejoong. I could've confronted you about it and I chose not to. I just…" He lets out a shaky breath. "I didn't want to lose you."

When he looks at you, you shiver at how broken he seems. You sit closer to him, holding him, hating the unsaid fact that you were never his to lose.

**Title: Pain**

"He really hasn't called you?"

You glare at the wall (for lack of a choice—the person you want to glare at isn't exactly in front of you right now) for a moment, before going back to throwing clothes left and right, searching for your black jacket.

"No, he _really_ hasn't. Jesus, Yunho, how many times am I going to have to repeat myself?" 

You hear him sigh—you also hear the sounds of night traffic in his neighborhood, evidence enough that he's out there, searching.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, a first, you realize, since you caught him with your former lover. Yunho calls you almost daily to ask about Jaejoong; you always give him the same answer. "I'm getting desperate. Last time he disappeared this long, I knew he went to you, but now…" 

"Last time?" When does he mean? The last time you and Jaejoong spent any time together was right around the time you met… Bastard. 

Somehow you find your jacket and then you're leaving your hotel room.

"Never mind, Yunho. I'm going out, see if he's at any of his old haunts."

Yunho sighs again, but this time, you know he's relieved that someone wants to help him find the elusive man (even if it's you).

You have already hung up before you walk out onto the pavement. The streets are rather crowded, not surprising since it's the weekend, and you lose yourself among hundreds of party goers. You follow them to the bars you used to go to with him back when you were still a student, the places where he drank like there was no tomorrow and there was always a friend ready with a refill for him; you walk over to several inexpensive restaurants he loved to eat at late at night—or early in the morning, it was so easy to lose track of time when with him.

Over three hours later, you have nothing to show for all your trouble.

 _Where the fuck are you?_ you ask no one. His cellphone isn't dead, you've left a dozen messages already. Therefore, where? _Where_ else would he go?

Suddenly, you remember the club. Junsu used to take you there frequently; Jaejoong found you there when you least expected it. Is the place still there, you wonder? Would he still go there?

There's a long line outside, just like you remember. Everyone looks younger than you remember being at their age, but you pay it no mind (just like you pay no attention to the female gazes that follow you as you take your place at the end of the line). Five, ten, twenty minutes go by, and only then are you close enough to the door. You almost laugh when the bouncer asks for I.D. (you decide to take it as a compliment), and then you're inside.

The place has changed some since your last trip there. It's still dark, the bass still loud enough to bust your eardrums, but there's something, you can't put your finger on it. There are red accents here and there (they used to be green), the chairs are purple (they used to be blue), the dance floor filled with so many bodies you can't tell one from the other (that hasn't changed).

You don't waste your time trying to buy a drink at the bar (though you really want one right now, if only to take some of the edge off), choosing instead to go looking around the areas he and his friends used to sit at. Maybe an hour later, he's nowhere to be seen; as you sit at the bar and ask for a drink, you know he isn't there.

"Nothing," you tell Yunho as you walk back home.

"Me, neither," he replies, sounding just as resigned. "I guess we'll find him when he wants to be found."

You snort at his words, rolling your eyes at the night sky.

" _If_ he wants to be found."

And you hang up.

**Title: Mad**

"The super sexy Kim Jaejoong here. Leave me a message after the beep."

You end the call before the stupid beep can mock you once again. Two weeks ago, you didn't really care that he had left, you didn't think he would be stupid enough to leave Yunho. Right now, though, while you try to focus on work, you feel panic set in.

 _I should be used to this_ , you think to yourself. Your assistant comes in and places a bunch of folders on your desk. You thank her absently, pretending that you weren't staring at the cellphone screen. As soon as she's gone, you put the phone inside a drawer and try to get back to work.

However, no matter how hard you try, the words blur, the charts become spots of red and blue and yellow (or whichever colors you chose for this particular project).

"Yunho told me," Changmin said when you spoke a few days ago. He seems to be returning to his usual self, but his tone, the confidence he always exuded… "He's really worried."

"Then he doesn't know Jaejoong as well as I thought." It's easy to blame Yunho (easier than blaming even Jaejoong, the reason for this entire mess). "Jaejoong comes and goes as he pleases. That's the way he has always been."

Changmin sighed—you could feel his worry through the phone—inevitably showing his own frustration at being unable to help either of you.

"Maybe he's different with Yunho."

You wonder if he ever realized just how much he hurt you with those words.

"Stupid Jaejoong," you mutter, before you finally manage to focus on the sheets before you.

Somehow, you manage to forget him. Junsu asked you over for dinner tonight and you need to go buy some wine or something (you don't care how long you've been friends, there's no excuse for being a lousy guest).

"Why don't you stay with us?" he insists every time you speak. "There's a spare room and you're welcome here, you know that."

You think he might be starting to feel somewhat insulted by your insistence on staying at the hotel. He doesn't seem to understand that you need to be alone. Even Changmin told you to come home, at least until you found a new place, but how can you? Although you parted ways amicably, it would feel strange to sleep there, knowing that his new… "friend" comes over nearly every day.

"Good night, Sir," your assistant tells you hours later. Only then do you realize that you have worked nearly an hour past closing time. You don't hurry to leave, though; only an empty hotel room waits for you, and then Junsu and Hyukjae. Maybe you should call and cancel? You don't really feel like spending the night trying to smile, or having Junsu gaze at you with pity.

"No, definitely not in the mood for that," you decide, grabbing your cellphone and looking up your best friend's number. The phone rings as you walk outside, the night air cool and pleasant.

"Finally."

You end the call automatically, turning to the source of the voice. There he is, the asshole, standing mere feet away from you, an unlit cigarette in his hand. He should look thin, sick, destroyed—or at least that's what you imagined, given your past experience. That isn't the case: he looks perfectly fine, wearing nicer clothes than any he has ever owned, a thin gold chain around his neck and designer sunglasses covering his dark eyes, his hair combed and gelled, and hell, where the fuck has he been?

"If you didn't come out in ten, I was going to leave," he continues. He acts as if you had seen each other yesterday instead of a month or so ago; he acts like he always does, like he owns the world (owns you) and everyone must drop everything immediately just because Kim Jaejoong decided to grace them with his presence. 

That asshole.

"What? No hello?"

You walk toward him, ready to tell him off, but you end up hugging him tightly instead. It's near impossible to keep your eyes open, you wish you could, just to confirm that yes, he is real, this is really him in your arms. The tears come out before you can stop them, but you don't care, not when his arms come around you to pull you even closer.

"You stupid asshole," you think you tell him, "you stupid, selfish asshole."

**Title: Gaze**

"Maybe we could go away on a trip someday," he says. He keeps his eyes closed, and he doesn't stop stroking your hair. "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know." You haven't really thought about leaving Korea, not even for a trip. "Where would you go?"

He sighs softly, shifting slightly on the bed, his leg twined with yours.

"Europe? South America? I don't know." He sounds like it, too. "Just somewhere far away."

You smile at the ceiling. He has been like this ever since you came home from school today, sort of quiet and lazy. Normally, he'll be loud and hyperactive (you worry that your neighbors will hear you having sex one of these days), so this is an interesting change. He isn't brooding, either. He's just…comfortable?

"But first we need to get the money," you remind him, trying to tease but failing. Sometimes you wish you had money just so that your father would stop reminding you that he keeps working so that you can go to university in the near future. And your mother and brother could live close by, it wouldn't take forever to get to their house by bus.

"We'll be working by then," he tells you, as though that should be obvious. "So, we'll have enough for the two of us. And we'll live happily ever after."

You snort in disbelief. Jaejoong really is crazy.

"Do you really believe in happy endings, Hyung?"

"I do," he says sleepily. "They're the only reason life is worth living, right?"

**Title: Raging**

"So, where the hell have you been all this time?"

He doesn't answer immediately, but you don't expect him to. Right now, he's too busy eating and watching some comedy show on TV. You should be eating, too (Junsu was so surprised when you called to cancel, but you couldn't bear the thought of letting _him_ go just yet). Once at the hotel room, he kissed you and now you're hungry and exhausted, but you're afraid to close your eyes.

"Try this," he says instead, placing some food on your plate. "And eat. You're way too thin." He laughs at some joke. "Isn't this guy great?"

You sigh, watching him and his every motion. You have missed him terribly (no matter how hard you pretended that you didn't), you wondered if he was all right, if he was alive! Don't you deserve an answer?

"Hyung."

He sighs, rolls his eyes and turns off the TV.

"What?" Now he sounds annoyed. Is he getting ready to argue?

"I just want to know where you've been staying. Yunho and I have been worried sick…"

"Yunho?" He snorts in disbelief. "Yunho has been fucking your pretty boy, so I doubt that he cares at all."

You can't help but bristle at the way in which he refers to your former partner. Changmin isn't just some "pretty boy," you want to tell him, Changmin is honest and strong and willing to talk no matter the consequences. _Except when it came to Yunho_ , you remind yourself, but one thing doesn't really change the other.

"He does care about you. He calls me all the time to ask if you've called me."

Jaejoong frowns, clearly irritated by your words. He takes a bite—you can only watch as he chews—from his nearly full plate, apparently willing to drag on the conversation. 

"Well," he says after he swallows, "next time you see him, you can tell him to throw all my stuff away and to move on."

You gape at him. Are you hearing what you think he's saying?

"What? You're breaking up with him through me?"

Jaejoong shrugs, drinking from his glass. He's acting so arrogantly you almost want to hit him. Then, what was all that bullshit about needing Yunho, about not being able to survive without him? Were all those lies?

Suddenly, he pushes his food away and snuggles up to you (you hate how he can make you shut up with just that one action). He sighs, snaking his arm around your waist.

"I don't want to talk about him," he says, nearly pouting. "I just want to be here, with you. Don't you want that, too?"

You exhale, gazing down at his arm.

"Why do you ask stupid questions?" you reply. He laughs, clearly surprised, before he leans up to kiss you fully on the mouth.

**Title: Familiar**

"I can't believe you canceled on us at the last minute."

You wish you could tell him the same, but, as good as you are at lying to yourself, you know you would never say no to Jaejoong.

"I'm sorry," you reply. "I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh? Not your stomach again?"

You have to smile at Junsu's mothering. He will never admit that sometimes he talks to you as if you were a beloved son rather than a precious friend. You love him for it, though; now that you're on your own, you know you'll need him.

This morning you woke up to a half-empty cold bed. You woke up late—you barely had time to get ready for work—but you still had to stop and look around the room, searching for clues that he had really been there. _Of course, he was_ , you told yourself as you showered hurriedly. The only indication he was there, though, was on your body and your filthy bed sheets (it's still not enough to convince you).

"Come over tonight," Junsu insists. "Hyukjae and I are really worried about you."

Not even a note, the bastard, he had left and he hadn't left you a note saying he would call or come to see you again. You refuse to call his cellphone again—he didn't seem to be carrying it last night—you have some dignity left, after all (you're almost sure).

You didn't dwell on him for very long. Once you arrived at work, you focused on your current projects (you don't want your boss to yell at you for being too slow). Even your assistant seemed surprised at your sudden boost in productivity.

Just before lunchtime, you asked her for the day's newspaper and there you were, reading about recent events, when your phone rang.

"I don't know," you say honestly. You love your two friends, you really do, but you want to be alone (you refuse to admit that you hope that he'll come to you again). "I'm really tired."

"That's because you spend too much time either alone or at work." Junsu sighs. "Come on, man, just tonight. I promise I'll stop badgering if you come over tonight."

You laugh softly. Now, that was an attractive offer.

"All right," you say, "if you insist."

"At eight, okay? And you don't need to bring wine or anything."

"Yeah, yeah," but you know you will, anyway. 

Somehow, you find the Classifieds ads. As you look them over, something occurs to you. 

"Say, Junsu," you say almost absently. "Are there any apartments for rent in your building?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: Rush**

_"Come home with me."_

He kisses you hard, his hips snap forward and it's all you can do not to moan out loud.

"Shh," he says gently (as gently as he can while fucking you within an inch of your life). "You don't want my sisters to hear, do you?"

You shake your head, focusing on him. He gives you a lazy smirk and speaks with his body. _I want you_ , he says, _You're mine_ , he seems to repeat over and over with each thrust into your body. You have to bite your lips not to cry out; you can't close your eyes or else the sensations overwhelm you; you can't look at him or else the sight of his long hair, his sweaty skin, his body, his smoldering eyes…

"Come home with me," he asked after the last bell. His family is strange, and you would have preferred not to go. There was something in his eyes, though, that pulled you along, and, before you knew it, you found yourself at his doorstep.

_They_ were there, you saw them as soon as you went in. He didn't acknowledge them, but you felt their gazes follow you until you reached the safety of his bedroom.

"Touch yourself," he orders in a whisper and he pushes himself up on one hand to watch you; the sight nearly undoes you.

He kissed you as soon as the door locked behind you, his lips hungry, desperate.

"I want you," he said between kisses, already pulling at your clothes. "I want to fuck you so bad…"

"But, your sisters…" The thought of having sex in the house while his sisters were there filled you with a strange sort of excitement, but also with dread. What if they heard?

"They can go to hell."

You gasp as you grab your cock and pump, trying to match your lover's thrusts. He gasps, mouth open. It's all it takes.

It hits you hard; you close your eyes, the pleasure so intense you only see white. Your body's still tingling all over when you come back to reality. He's still fucking you, eyes closed, biting his lower lip. The most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

He gasps suddenly, his body tenses, and then you're feeling as he fills you with warmth. You catch him when he falls, holding him tightly against your body (he doesn't even complain when his skin makes contact with the stickiness on your stomach).

"You won't ever leave me, will you?" he asks, still breathless.

"Never," you promise.

**Title: Stray**

"I'm cold," he whispers in your ear, snuggling closer. You put your arm around him, and he sighs, content and comfortable. He looks so peaceful in your arms, the comforter covering up to his chin. Angelic, you think, that's what he has always seemed like while in slumber: a pure, angelic being who could do no harm. However, he needs only open his eyes and the illusion is broken.

Today, Thursday, was the same as any other day. You woke up early, had toast and coffee for breakfast (plus a couple of cigarettes out on the balcony). You showered and dressed up in one of your usual suits (dark gray to match your mood). After you tamed your growing hair—it's time for a haircut, but you can't bring yourself to go to a hairstylist—you filled your suitcase with some work documents you had finished yesterday and then you were on your way.

Life at the office hasn't changed, either: your coworkers have grown to respect you thanks to the clients you have both brought in and held on to for the company. Nevertheless, work keeps piling up and you have finally become resigned to your lack of an area partner; your assistant is excellent, but she doesn't work for you specifically (though she helps you far more often than you think she should) plus she isn't trained in marketing. Ah, whatever. You're grateful, in a way: too much work means no time to think; no time to think means no dwelling on things you can't fix.

Like the man lying in your arms right now.

"Yoochunnie!" he greeted you tonight, at about ten. You had been watching TV, relaxing before tackling some work you had brought home. You didn't expect the buzzer to go off so late; neither did you expect to hear his voice, so full of life and happiness, through the intercom. Once up at your door, he pressed the doorbell about ten times, being his usual exasperating self, before you finally opened up. And then you had an armful of Kim Jaejoong, his lips finding yours almost immediately.

"I missed you," he said, gazing into your eyes, before finally letting go.

Jaejoong comes and goes whenever he pleases. He found out about your new apartment before you even had a chance to tell him (you had even considered not telling him at all), and he showed up one day, completely wasted, sweaty, like he had been running. You were weak, oh so ridiculously weak; you brought him to your bed and that was that.

Since then, he comes over at least once a week, usually carrying a brown leather backpack with a change of clothes, a perpetual smile on his lips. You don't ask questions anymore; instead, you accept him as he is, you make love to him when you can. If you're lucky, he stays until morning and he says goodbye with a lingering kiss before leaving once again. You continue to live (or exist; what's the difference?).

Tonight, he seemed sober but as volatile as only he can be. He told you about some friends you don't really care about, how one of them bought a ridiculously expensive car and offered to take everyone for a spin.

"It's a dream!" Jaejoong told you, sitting next to you, bright-eyed, smiling. "I want a car like his. Then you and I could go on a road trip!"

Silence came unexpectedly: Jaejoong kissed you deeply, straddling your thighs. Your work lay forgotten on your desk. Ah, well, it's not like you wanted to work, anyway.

Hours later, you lie together in the dark, your naked bodies close. Will he be gone come morning? You wonder this each time, your eyes filling with tears. This is the life you have chosen, though. What else can you do but live it?

**Title: Strange**

"Come out with me," he said, sliding his arms around your neck, his warm breath tickling your lips.

"I have work to do…"

"You work too much," he complained. You couldn't even deny it: it's true, you have become a full-on workaholic, just as Changmin and Junsu always predicted you would. "Just for a few hours. And then we can come home and I can fuck your brains out."

Maybe it was the last few words that did it, but you found yourself walking next to him, his arm linked with yours as he led you to one of the places he now frequents. You weren't surprised when he led you to the darker side of town, nor when you reached a dark place with a barely visible door and the bouncer let him in without a second glance.

Now you're in a club full of men, in the middle of the dance floor despite your two left feet. It doesn't really matter that you can't dance: Jaejoong wants to dance with you in the way you both know best. He puts his hands on your hips, he holds you tight, leaning closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins. When he kisses you, you must close your eyes and let him take over; this is his moment, he's in control, it's what he wants and you will never deny him.

The song ends almost abruptly and he lets go. You feel the loss and begin to protest, until he holds your hand.

"Drink?" he asks, eyes filled with lust. You nod and, once again, you let him lead you, this time to the bar. He orders a drink that is way too sweet for your taste.

"What is this?" He just grins at you and downs his drink in one gulp. You decide not to worry and do the same. Shots and drinks later, you can barely walk straight. He laughs at everything you say, dark eyes wild and bright; you wish he would tell you what his secret is. How does he do it? How does he disconnect himself from the world so easily that nothing bothers him, and nothing matters, and everything is happiness and only happiness? Why can't you be like him? Why must you-?

"You think too much," he accuses you, grabbing your hand once again and leading you away from the bar. You think you see a couple of people say hello, but he only waves back, both a greeting and a dismissal, until you're in front of a door. No one stops him, you notice, he just keeps walking along the dark hall, up to a green door. _What's behind it?_ you wonder, but you don't ask; you only watch as he takes a key out of his jeans pocket and opens the lock.

"Why do you have…?"

"Shh," he interrupts you, and then he's closing the door and pushing you against it, lips pressed to yours. You close your eyes, arms around him. Does it really matter where you are as long as you're with him?

"Fuck me," you tell him in between kisses. He moans, his hips moving in circles against yours, making you gasp. 

There's a bed in the room, you find out when he pushes you onto it; he's on you in an instant, kissing you again, taking your breath away. You kiss back just as passionately; you pull at his clothes until you feel his naked skin against yours. This is what you live for, you realize, the only reason you fight so hard to stay alive.

Suddenly, he stops, looking down at you.

"Yoochun?" he sounds concerned, but you can't understand why.

"Don't stop," you growl, but you feel breathless, your chest hurts and you can't fix it.

Jaejoong touches your face, the lust in his eyes replaced by worry.

"Why are you crying?"

**Title: Experience**

_"You're late."_

You help set up the table: three places, the same number as always. Junsu starts bringing in dinner and you stop to help.

"Got held up at work," you explained when you arrived nearly an hour later than promised, but that didn't make his frown go away. Junsu only took your jacket and told you to come inside.

He has made little conversation since then. Hyukjae has been the one to ask after your well-being, whether they still treat you like dirt at work.

"I guess I'm a masochist," you said when Junsu snorted at your reply.

Now the two of you are alone in the dining room, Hyukjae in the living room watching TV. The air feels heavy, the tension so thick you think you could cut it with a knife. Why can't he just say what's in his mind?

"Junsu…"

"I saw him." Are you supposed to know who the hell he's talking about?

"Who?"

He glares at you, leaning against a wall.

"You know who! I can't believe you're still seeing him even after he destroyed your relationship with Changmin…" 

"Jaejoong didn't destroy anything," you reply, trying to keep your tone of voice down. "I did." And, shit, you still regret it, every day that goes by. "I'm not going to turn him away, Junsu."

He shakes his head, closing his eyes.

"Have you even looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" he asks, sounding close to exasperated. "Do you know how painful it is to see you waste away over a man who doesn't even love you?"

"Junsu!" You're both surprised to find Hyukjae at the doorway, eyes wide open. Junsu's lucky, you think, that his boyfriend came in right when he did. Who is he to decide what you should do with your life? Isn't he supposed to be your friend?

"I'm leaving," you announce, turning toward the hall. You don't need to listen to this shit.

"No, wait," Hyukjae stops you. When you turn, you see he's next to Junsu, his arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Is Junsu crying? "Come on, stay. We've been looking forward to this."

You take a deep breath, but you agree.

The three of you sit at the table, eating and talking about this and that. Hyukjae likes to talk a lot, and you and Junsu usually let him. It's part of his charm, you think, how he can get into any topic so fully that he can make you care about it, even make it personal somehow. And that's what happens tonight.

At least, until they mention _them._

"I saw Changmin today," Junsu says suddenly. You glance at him, but he doesn't look back. Hyukjae throws you a wary glance. "He was nervous, had a composition project due."

"Ah," Hyukjae says. "How did…?"

"We sat down a few minutes, and he told me Yunho asked him to move in together."

You nearly choke on your food, but a quick sip of water helps you hide your reaction.

"What?" (You secretly thank Hyukjae for expressing what you can't). "But they haven't been together six months, yet. Isn't that a bit hasty?"

Junsu shrugs.

"Yunho seems to be in love with him," he says, like that's a good enough reason. Not even eight months have gone by since you and Changmin parted ways, and he's already moving in with Yunho, the same Yunho who supposedly loved Jaejoong so much?

"I thought Yunho loved Jaejoong," you say, unable to keep quiet any longer. Junsu finally looks at you, shrugging.

"And I thought you loved Changmin."

"Junsu, come on, please," Hyukjae pleads. "Look, just… What did Changmin say?"

Junsu shrugs again, staring down at his plate.

"He said no, that it's too soon. Seems he's not over Yoochun, yet."

You close your eyes, guilt eating at you again. Right now, you just want to go home, you want to drink and pass out and forget about everything that happened because of you and your ridiculous weaknesses.

"That's natural," Hyukjae replies, turning to you. "How long since you guys broke up? A little more than half a year?"

"Almost eight months," you answer automatically. He scoffs.

"Junsu took much longer than that to get over you."

"Hyukjae!" Junsu protests this time, glaring at his life partner.

"He wouldn't go out with me because he was still in love with you. He preferred to go out with a bunch of losers rather than with someone who actually cared about him."

Junsu looks about to cry, though, eyes shining with tears, brow furrowed. You can only sit there, paralyzed.

"Come on, don't do this," your best friend pleads. The other man glares at him, though.

"No, I _will_ do this. Let's talk about the real reason why you're so angry at Yoochun." He looks angry, hurt. Betrayed? Another thing that's your fault. "You're not angry because he left Changmin, you're angry because he left _you_."

"You're making me sound like I'm a complete asshole," Junsu replies, visibly agitated. "I'm angry because I know what it feels like to compete with Jaejoong and-"

"Compete?" you finally react. "Junsu, _you_ broke up with me. I had no intention of leaving."

"But you would have!" Tears slip down his face; you hate how vulnerable he looks. "Just like it happened with Changmin."

You stand up, trying to calm down. What the hell is going on? Aren't these supposed to be your best friends? Instead they're bringing out the past, as if it mattered. Unless…

"Shit, Hyukjae, why the fuck are you doing this?" you ask, turning to look at him. He looks somewhat guilty, trying to touch Junsu's shoulder—the other man won't let him, though. "Junsu loves you, it couldn't be more obvious. Are you so insecure over his feelings for you that you would hurt him like this?"

He can't answer, he seems deflated, sight down. You sigh, say a soft goodbye and leave. This is not your problem anymore.

**Title: Pleasure**

"I'm hungry," he says, getting off the bed and rushing into the kitchen. You barely have time to put on some shorts and your slippers before you catch up with him.

"Ugh, Yoochunnie, you need to stop eating so much take out," he scolds you, leaning to look inside the fridge as he throws some old containers away. "Hmm, how do you feel about scrambled eggs?"

You want to point out that he's entirely naked, what if he burns something, but, really, you're enjoying the view too much to say anything. He goes about the kitchen as if he owned it (he has cooked more meals there than you have, anyway), grabbing ingredients from the fridge, seasonings from the cupboards.

"Yoochunnie, put on some music!" he orders soon enough and you oblige, playing one of his favorite playlists. He dances around, singing into the spatula, sliding his hand down his chest during a racy song (he smirks at you, and you smirk back). It isn't long before dinner is done, and he brings you a plate to the island counter. You try to help, but he stops you.

"Can't I do something for my Yoochunnie once in a while?" he whispers against your lips, before walking away again.

As soon as he comes back, you eat together.

Dinner seems a repeat of practically every meal you have shared in the last few weeks. He speaks rapidly, his food nearly forgotten over silly anecdotes about people you don't know. You think he says something about a store, some place in the sketchy side of town. Is that where he lives when you're not together? Does he work at that store?

You haven't asked about that night at the club. Why did he have a key? Why didn't anyone stop him? Curiosity is killing you, but you don't want to drive him away. Regardless of what Junsu says, you _need_ Jaejoong; you don't want him to go away ever again.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asks, suddenly. You realize he stopped talking a few minutes ago, and you smile.

"No reason," you answer. He smiles brightly, taking a bite and stretching. His skin is as pale as ever, you note, but he keeps losing weight—his ribs already show beneath his smooth skin. You notice scars here and there, some you think you recognize from when you were younger; some are unfamiliar, likely from the years you were apart. There's a newer one near the inside of his elbow, though.

"How did you get that?" you ask, reaching to touch the scar. He moves away from you.

"Accident," he answers, but you know he's lying, and he knows you know. So, he changes the topic of conversation once again.

He asks you to do the dishes while he showers. You can't shake off the wrongness looking at his body provoked. You wish you knew what kind of life he leads, what you're exposing yourself to every second you spend with him. What if he's sick? How many men does he sleep with?

You hear him come out of the bathroom and you shower quickly. Once you go back into the bedroom, you find him sprawled on the bed, wearing your bathrobe and watching TV. He's so beautiful, so perfect. Why do you become such an idiot whenever he's around?

"Come on," he calls to you, holding out his hand. "The show's just starting."

You nod, slipping a pair of boxers on (though you know they'll be off before the show is over) and sit with him. He cuddles up to you, his wet hair tickling at your skin.

**Title: Tomorrow**

"Hey, baby, wake up," you stroke his hair and he stirs, slowly opening his eyes.

"What time is it?"

You've just come home from work, so you're still wearing your suit. Food and a long shower would be perfect right now. If only he would get up.

"Almost eight," you answer. "I brought dinner, if you're hungry."

He nods, eyes drooping again. And he falls asleep.

Four days have gone by since he came over, drunk and possibly high. He didn't even bring his backpack, just the clothes on his back, and grabbed you by surprise, pushing you on the sofa and fucking himself on your lap. You can only remember feelings, his lips on yours, being pushed on the sofa and him getting partially undressed while kissing you; then straddling your lap, taking you in so eagerly you were afraid he would hurt himself. How long did you go on, you wonder? Hours, you think; he kept waking you up throughout the night, wanting to kiss and fuck and nothing else.

The next morning, you could barely get up. You called in sick to work for the first time ever and slept until late afternoon. You thought he would be gone by then (like always), but he was still in bed, snuggled close to you, looking exhausted despite being asleep.

The next day, you left him in bed and went to work. Your coworkers asked after your well-being.

"I thought you were in the hospital or something," one of your colleagues teased. They think you would have to be dying in order to stay home from work. _Depends on how you define 'dying'_ , you thought before settling in your office.

When you came back from work that night, you expected him to be gone. Jaejoong never stays more than one night a week, and this time he came over earlier; surely, he would have come to his senses already. However, you found him sitting on the sofa, eating a bowl of rice mixed with some sauce, wearing a pair of your shorts and watching TV bleary-eyed.

"Welcome home," he said softly, trying to smile. Somehow, you managed to hide your worry and leaned down to kiss him. Whether he looked like shit or not, you loved coming home to him. Hadn't that been your dream so many years ago? And now it's true. 

Even if he leaves tomorrow.

Tonight, you shower and then serve dinner for you both. Somehow you manage to get him to wake up and sit up against the headboard.

"I'm not hungry," he says, wrinkling his nose slightly.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day," you tell him, pushing the plate toward him. "Just a few bites. And then you can go back to sleep."

He looks at the plate, considering your offer.

"Promise?" You nod. He sighs but holds the chopsticks. He eats slowly, and more than you initially hoped (maybe it's because the TV's on and he's distracted by it).

"I don't want anymore," he decides after he has eaten nearly half the food on his plate. You think it's fair enough and let him go back to sleep.

After you finish eating and do the dishes, you lie in bed and watch him sleep. What goes on in his mind, you wonder? And why has he stayed so long? More importantly, should you be calling a doctor? He doesn't look well, he's so pale, the circles around his eyes so dark and deep. His appearance rather reminds you of what he looked like back when you ran into him and he seemed like a zombie next to Yunho. He was functional, then; now he only sleeps, it seems like it takes him great effort to move.

"I love you," you whisper, looking at him. Ah, you won't cry now, no matter the tears that want to fall.

You lie closer to him and hold his body close, hoping that he'll still be here tomorrow.

**Title: Loneliness**

"Can you make it to dinner tonight?" he asks, tone soft and apologetic.

"Are you going to attack me again?" Hey, he did attack you last time you came over, as did Hyukjae, in a way.

He sighs, and you know he really regrets what happened.

"I promise no one will attack you tonight, or ever again," he answers and you laugh softly.

"Then I'll be there."

How long has it been since you last went up to Junsu's apartment? You haven't seen each other in the lobby or in the elevator since the last time he invited you over for dinner (you admit you avoided him for a few days after the argument), nor have you called each other. Two weeks? Three? Ah, it has been a long time and you miss them, anyway.

Jaejoong left after the sixth day and you haven't seen him since. You miss him terribly (your heart aches at the thought of coming to an empty apartment with him nowhere in sight), and you wonder about his health. More than once, you grab your cell phone and dial but hang up almost immediately. He can call if he wants to talk. That's what you decided after this dysfunctional relationship took shape: he calls you if he wants to see you; you will never look for him again.

He remains in your thoughts most days, and today is no exception. Work seems boring and sometimes difficult; you talk with clients, go to meetings, meet with a client for drinks. _He_ seems like the only real thing in your mind.

You get home just minutes after nine and you rush into your apartment for a quick shower and a bottle of wine you have been saving for one of those days you need to numb your feelings. Once at Junsu's door, you press the doorbell, an excuse already on your lips.

But someone other than Junsu answers the door.

"Yoochun." He smiles at you and you almost melt. He looks amazing, so beautiful, eyeglasses perched on his nose.

"Changmin." You feel a bit like an idiot, staring, mouth slightly open. You haven't seen him in so long, even if you talk occasionally. He looks amazing, happy (nothing like those last few months before you broke up). "You cut your hair."

He reaches up to touch his now short hair. Is he blushing?

"Yeah. It was getting too long." He swallows hard, staring back at you.

"Changmin, who's at the door?" Junsu's voice seems to wake you both up and Changmin opens the door wider.

"Sorry," he apologizes, and you walk past him. Why is Changmin here? And why didn't Junsu tell you he would be?

Once you get to the living room and you see Hyukjae's nervous smile, you realize why.

"Hey, Yoochun," he says. "Uh, this was a bit last minute. I hope you don't mind…"

"We can just leave, if you want," Yunho tells you, looking straight into your eyes. Shit.

What do you do? Do you stay here with your former life partner and his current boyfriend, who happens to be your current lover's former partner? Fuck, you're getting a headache and you're beginning to get tense. No, not a good thing at all.

"No, I'll leave," you say, gaze never wavering. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I'm not feeling all that well right now…"

"You made it!" Junsu cries from the doorway. Next thing you know, he hugs you tight. "Forgive me?" he whispers in your ear. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

You have to snort at that, but you hug him back anyway. You can't help but wonder whatever led him to have all three of you over for dinner on the same night. Maybe Changmin and Yunho came by unexpectedly?

"I don't know about your promises." You sigh, tightening your hold on him. "I won't leave, but only because you're asking me not to."

When he lets go of you, he's grinning.

"Someone help me set up?" he asks. Both Changmin and Hyukjae volunteer. You choose not to bother yourself as to why they dare to leave you and Yunho alone; instead, you sit on the loveseat.

Yunho remains standing, staring at you. You stare back.

"What?" you ask. He shrugs.

"Changmin wanted to come," he says. "He wanted to see you."

You look into his eyes, knowing that he would never lie about the man he now loves.

"He looks happy," you reply. He shrugs once again.

"Maybe," he says. "We still have a long way to go, though."

"Do you love him?" He seems taken aback by your question. "Come on. Not ten months ago you and Jaejoong were the perfect couple and now-"

"Yes, I love Changmin," he answers finally, never breaking eye contact. So, it's true?

"Come on, you guys," Hyukjae calls you into the dining room.

Dinner begins a tense affair, but Junsu and Hyukjae make sure to talk about topics even you would be interested in. You listen to everyone talk about work and school: Yunho's run-in with a famous but pompous Pop star who got in Yunho's face only to have the choreographer set him straight; Changmin's happiness over receiving much support from the university regarding his music and his projects; Junsu's work at music school.

You only listen, until, around mid-dinner, the ever-present question pops up.

"So, Yoochun, how's work?" Changmin asks. You don't know how to read his gaze. Is he being critical of you again?

"Fine…"

"They're still killing him," Junsu interrupts you and you must glare at him. "More work and responsibilities, and new accounts."

Changmin gives you a worried gaze you're too familiar with.

"Yoochun, you need to leave that place," he pleads (it almost feels like a year ago, when you came home so tired you could barely walk).

"Don't worry about me," you tell him. "No more on this subject, everyone. Please."

You see Changmin frown, but you ignore him, wishing the ease of earlier would return.

You decide to leave only minutes after finishing dessert. Junsu tries to get you to stay longer by offering you some of the wine you brought, but you refuse, saying goodbye to everyone.

You're surprised that you could stand an entire evening with Yunho, but you're glad for it. Maybe you could learn to get along. Although, Changmin… was that love you still saw in his eyes? No, he can't love you, he wouldn't be with Yunho if he did.

The elevator doors open and you're about to step inside, when you hear your name.

"Yoochun, wait!"

You turn around, only to see Yunho rushing toward you. He looks apologetic and worried. Why?

"I just wanted to ask…" He takes a deep breath. "How is Jaejoong?"

The question isn't surprising (then, why do you jump at hearing that name on his lips?). You shrug.

"I haven't seen him for a couple of weeks now," you admit. "He looked all right the last time I saw him." It hurts you to lie like this. Yunho would help if you told him about last time. If only your stupid pride wouldn't get in the way…

Yunho exhales, looking straight at you, gaze filled with determination.

"Push him to tell you," he says, suddenly. You can only stare at him. What the hell is he saying? "He wants to tell you everything, he just doesn't know how to."

The elevator beeps and the doors start to close. You react quickly and press the up button again. Somehow, you ignore Yunho as you get in and go down to your floor.

You feel numb, dead, and the feeling accompanies you up to your door. You grab a bottle of wine and your pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. There's only the sound of late night traffic when you come out to the balcony (you wonder if he's nearby, among all those late night partygoers, or maybe he's making his way over to you).

Yunho's words repeat over and over in your mind, until you think you'll go crazy. Why does Yunho know? And _what_ does he know? Why can't Jaejoong trust you to love him and be by his side? You remember Yunho and Changmin sitting together, the ease with which they talked, Yunho's simple yet affectionate act of getting something from the kitchen when Changmin asked for it.

You had it all.

What do you have now?

**Title: Space**

"I'm coming to get you at ten. You'd better be all pretty for me!" he says into the phone. You want to send him to hell, quite honestly: he disappears for almost a month and now he expects you to go out clubbing with him?

You're an idiot, though. You're already downstairs by nine-forty-five.

"Yoochunnie!" he cries at your sight. You don't expect him to throw himself in your arms and kiss you (at least not while in public).

"I've missed you sooooo much." He's drunk. Fuck. "These are my friends. They're coming with us. You don't mind, do you?"

He keeps talking with the two men he brought along, but he doesn't let go of you, an arm firm around your shoulders. One of them—a man with obviously dyed red hair—keeps staring at you, but you do your best to ignore him.

Once at the club, it's a whole different story.

Jaejoong gets you a couple of drinks and pulls you along to dance. However, once you tell him you're tired, he doesn't even try to convince you to submit to his wishes and grabs the red-haired man instead. You stay at the bar, drinking and knowing that he'll come back at some point.

While you wait, you watch the other men in the club. Some are attractive, some are average, others confident. Many are nervous. A few stay together in groups, looking around until one of them finally finds the courage to let loose.

"Idiots," you mutter. You're drunk, dead tired and you want to go home. You wish you could go catch a taxi, but you don't want to leave without Jaejoong. Just being without him was hell, and now…

"Sir? Sir?"

You feel someone shaking you. You don't recognize his voice. Your head hurts, as does your neck. As soon as you open your eyes, you're thrown off balance.

"Whoa, there," the man, a young guy, says, holding your arm. You're at the bar, you recognize the club, but all the people are gone. As soon as the thought hits you, you look around, searching for the one person you were waiting for. He's nowhere to be seen, though, not unless he went through the door on the far wall. Did Jaejoong just abandon you here? What the hell…?

"Can I call you a cab?" the guy asks. He's giving you a _look_ , and he doesn't seem to want to let go of your arm. You're too angry to answer, your heart is beating so fast it pounds in your ears, and, fuck, you need to _do_ something about these feelings or you'll go crazy.

You lick your lips, watching as his eyes follow your motion. You step closer, invading his space.

"Unless you want to take me home." You have done this only a few times in your life, and mostly during college. Junsu never liked you taking strange guys home, but he isn't here; he won't care.

"Just let me finish cleaning up the bar," your stranger says, smiling invitingly, and you finally recognize him as the bartender you kept ordering drinks from all night. You can see the other bartender cleaning up at the other side of the bar.

"Sure." He smiles and you look him up and down as he walks away. Not bad at all.

And Jaejoong… Jaejoong can go to hell.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: Question**  
  
"Meet me around the corner to your house?"  
  
Jaejoong calls before noon and asks you out to a movie. Neither of you ever calls your outings _dates_ , but they are, and you worry about what to wear and your hair, and you feel like those teens they show on TV. Is that pathetic? Jaejoong, you suspect, doesn't have to do anything at all to look the way he does. Heck, you've seen him wake up in the morning; is that supposed to be bed hair? Sometimes you really resent how perfect he looks (though you suspect you shouldn't—he's _your_ boyfriend, after all).  
  
After choosing from among your limited array of jeans and t-shirts, and fighting with your uncooperative hair, you finally leave home. Your father is at work, so he won't care if you're out. Maybe, if you're lucky, Jaejoong can get the old car again and you can go get drunk somewhere.  
  
You sigh, pushing your hands inside your jean pockets. For some reason, you're feeling nervous today. It's stupid, you think. You've been with Jaejoong for a few months now and you've never been happier. Yes, he's insane most of the time, but he's interesting and smart, and you can talk to him about anything… All right, so you didn't feel that way at the beginning, but that was so long ago. You've gotten used to his personality, to his moods. There's nothing you love more than listening to him go on with one of his silly stories. He should really write them down.  
  
Ah, finally, the corner. Is that him over there? Looks like it. But… who's the guy with him?  
  
Jaejoong laughs, covering his mouth. He seems happy, happier than you have seen him in a long time. There's something about the way he moves that bothers you, though. Maybe it's the way he cocks his head to the side (like when he flirts with you), looking straight into the other guy's eyes. The guy seems older, though. Jaejoong has never mentioned having other friends; in fact, as far as you know, he's the perfect example of a loner.  
  
You stop in your tracks when the stranger reaches out and caresses Jaejoong's face. His expression is… affectionate. Who the fuck is this guy?  
  
You have only just decided to walk up to them when they hug tightly. You stop in your tracks; you can't stop staring, you heart beating so fast it hurts. It's not like Jaejoong is cheating on you. Right?  
  
Jaejoong waves goodbye as the guy gets into a black car and drives away. He looks so happy now, smiling so beautifully. Who is this person who can make your lover smile this way?  
  
Heart still beating fast, you walk over to him.  
  
"Hyung."  
  
His smile widens impossibly and he meets you halfway.  
  
"Yoochunnie." He puts his arm around your shoulders. Sometimes you wish he wouldn't be so affectionate, but, right now, you need…  
  
Suddenly, he leans closer and sniffs your neck.  
  
"Is that…? Yoochun, are you wearing cologne?" he teases, trying to look into your eyes. You look away.  
  
"Just had some, felt like trying it. What, it smells bad?" You knew you were going a bit overboard with the cologne, but, well, it had seemed so appropriate at the time.  
  
Jaejoong laughs.  
  
"Aw, come on, don't be like this," he says, beginning to lead you toward the bus stop. "Besides,” (he leans really close and brushes his lips against the side of your face, voice huskier) “I really like it."  
  
His action leaves you breathless and feeling like a love-struck idiot (which you are). You can only listen to him while you walk, enjoying the feel of his arm around you.  
  
(You don't think about the stranger again.)  
  
  
 **Title: Battles**  
  
"You're beautiful," he said, moving to kiss and nuzzle your neck, before kissing you with bruising force once more. You had forgotten just how uncomfortable it was to fuck in the backseat of a car, but you were too angry, too desperate. You kissed back with as much fervor, desired him as much as he desired you; you took him into your mouth before he could even ask (even if it tasted wrong, felt wrong, fit wrong in your mouth, because it wasn't _his_ ). You straddled his lap and fucked yourself on his cock and loved it (pretended to), because, hell, you wanted it, you needed it so badly you thought you would scream.  
  
He took you home afterward, and he still had that dazed look in his eyes when he pulled over near your building. You were almost sure he would ask for your name, probably your number, but you said a quick goodbye and left, never to see him again.  
  
"Shit," you mutter, leaning forward on the railing. It's probably three in the morning and you're outside on the balcony, staring down at the quiet street. You've been drinking all night and you think you've smoked an entire pack of cigarettes already, but you don't care.  
  
"What does it matter?" you ask yourself, taking a drag from your cigarette. "Who cares, anyway?"  
  
He called two days later. His number lit up the little screen on your cell phone and you wanted to hurl the little device across the room. You even came out to the balcony and held it over the street below. He couldn't ever call you again if you didn't have his number; you never had to see him again if he couldn't reach you. And you almost let go, you were so ready to finally let go.  
  
But you couldn't.  
  
"So sick of this shit," you mutter, putting out what's left of your smoke and sitting. The chair is cold and uncomfortable, but you've been standing for over an hour already and you're afraid of what you might do if you stay near the railing any longer. It hurts so much (too much) and right now, no matter how irrational it may seem to even yourself, you just want to die.  
  
You sigh, leaning back and closing your eyes. It'll stop, you hope, someday you will wake up and his memory won't hurt you anymore. He will be Kim Jaejoong, your childhood love and nothing else. Maybe you will even remember him with some affection, your memories from your teen years will overpower those of the last few years and you will remember only the young, slightly insane boy who loved you and asked for nothing in return, not even that you love him back. You'll recall late-night trips to the beach, making love in your bedroom, stealing kisses in the boys' bathroom at school. That he left won't matter ever again; that he has abandoned you time and time again will be unimportant. That he has broken your heart so many times it's just a shattered mess now…  
  
A soft sob escapes your mouth and you can't stop the tears from coming anymore. You haven’t cried, you have forced yourself to be strong, but you just can't do it anymore.  
  
"Someday," you tell yourself, over and over (though you know it's just a lie).  
  
  
 **Title: Mood**  
  
"We hope you'll join us," she said, voice soft but proud. How can she not be? Her younger son is getting married; he's fulfilling her dream (the one dream you never will).  
  
"I will meet you there," you promised. You could sense her happiness, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. As much as you love your mother, you always felt like she abandoned you after she and your father divorced. She could have called more often, visited more often, but she didn't. She focused on work and Yoohwan. Meanwhile, your father focused on himself.  
  
 _That's in the past now_ , you remind yourself.  
  
The night before the informal dinner where you will meet your brother's fiancée, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is too long and looks unkempt; you have dark bags under your eyes and you've become so thin your collarbone is painfully visible.  
  
 _At least I can do something about the hair_ , you muse, before you go to sleep.  
  
The next day, you go to work, but you leave early (rather, you don't work overtime) and go get a haircut. Once at home, you shower and rest a few minutes before getting dressed in a navy blue suit (you would have worn black, but then you might look like a mortician and you don't feel like it). There's still half an hour left, but who knows about heavy traffic and that area of town, so you drive away from your building and toward your first family reunion in years.  
  
All four of you haven't been together since you graduated from university and, even back then, you were uncomfortable. You and Yoohwan haven't had anything in common for years. Sometimes you think he's angry at you, but what could you do when you were kids? Later, when you tried to maintain a relationship through frequent phone calls, he rarely ever wanted to talk. And then there's your father…  
  
"Let's just get this over with," you mutter to yourself as you arrive at the restaurant and find a parking lot.  
  
You're just in time, you realize, when you see your mother standing in the waiting area. She looks beautiful, wearing a green dress, her hair down. She has always been beautiful, you thought so when you were a child, especially whenever she smiled at you. There's a young woman standing next to her and they're talking animatedly, both smiling.  
  
"Mom," you interrupt when you're only a few feet away. She looks at you immediately and gives you a radiant smile.  
  
"You're here!" You aren’t surprised when she hugs you. You welcome her touch; you need her affection (anyone's) so badly. Once she lets go, though, she looks surprised. "You need to eat more. You're all skin and bones!"  
  
Somehow, you manage to smile.  
  
"I'm fine, Mom."  
  
She looks unconvinced, but she smiles again and puts her arm around your waist. When you look up again, your father and brother are walking over and you finally meet the fiancée.  
  
  
Conversation flows, but you don't contribute. You're happy to listen to them talk about Yoohwan's great luck at finding such a beautiful girlfriend. She's a teacher, like Yoohwan himself (at least he got to study what he wanted), and she loves children. _Great, grandchildren_ , you think, rolling your eyes.  
  
Saemi—Kim Saemi, your brother said—glances at you every once in a while. Is she curious about you? You must wonder what, if anything, Yoohwan has told her about you. Surely, she knows you aren’t close, that you've detached yourself from the family. He barely even looks at you and you're fine with it (it's easier to pretend that it doesn't hurt).  
  
They gush over the food—delicious, exquisite.  
  
"However did you find this place?" your mother asks and Saemi explains that she and Yoohwan found it by chance and fell in love with it. How cliché.  
  
"Hyung," Yoohwan speaks to you all of a sudden. "How's work going for you?"  
  
You look directly into his eyes.  
  
"Very well, thanks for asking," you reply, giving him a slight smile.  
  
"No talk of a promotion?" your mother asks innocently.  
  
"I got a raise a few months ago," you tell her. "I thought I had told you."  
  
"That's wonderful!" she said, smiling brightly. "Now, Yoochun, when are you going to get married? Your brother is younger and he's already ahead of you."  
  
You stop, looking down at your plate. You knew the question would come, but you still haven't figured out how to answer it.  
  
"When I meet someone I want to marry," you finally manage, looking her in the eye. Have your parents really no clue? "That hasn't happened, yet. I'm very happy for Yoohwan, though."  
  
Your brother looks surprised at your words, but he thanks you. He looks happy with Saemi and you're happy for them.  
  
  
Dinner ends with your father making a toast for the soon to be married couple. You can't wait to get out of there; you say goodbye to your family—your mother hugs you tightly, eyes full of tears when she lets go—and go back to your car.  
  
"Yoochun."  
  
Your car is right in front of you when he calls out. Your father looks older and tired, wrinkles set deep in what used to be a very handsome face. He used to have girlfriends, beautiful women who sometimes stayed over at your house. Most of those nights, you remember after Jaejoong became your world, Jaejoong would come get you and you would escape a reality you hated.  
  
"Dad," you reply. You get out a cigarette and offer him one, but he refuses. "Aren't you supposed to be going back to your hotel?"  
  
"Soon," he says (he looks troubled as you light up the cigarette). "I just wanted to talk with you."  
  
"About?" You haven't spoken in months. Every time you call him, he has to go for some reason or other and you have stopped trying to be a good son.  
  
He sighs.  
  
"I just want to know how you really are doing. You look like… as if…"  
  
"What? I look bad? Tired?" You're losing your patience. "I know what I look like, Dad."  
 _  
_"Are you sick?" he asks, and you couldn't be more shocked. "Or is it work? Are you overworking yourself again?"  
  
You scoff, rolling your eyes.  
  
"I did what you wanted. I went to school, I got a job. So what if I work too much? Wasn't that what you wanted?"  
  
He winces, as if hit. He insisted so much on you studying business, on working hard and making the family proud. Is it not enough now? What more does he want?  
  
"Do you need a ride to the hotel?" you ask, once more getting your car keys out. He shakes his head.  
  
"No."  
  
You say goodbye and get into the car, leaving him behind.  
  
  
 **Title: Days**  
  
"Please read the next paragraph."  
  
He's doodling something in his notebook, you can see from your seat, though you can't tell what exactly. He rarely ever pays attention in English class (you always have to give him your notes after class just so that he can keep up), instead choosing to write or doodle. The teacher used to scold him a lot at the beginning of the school year, but now she doesn't even bother; you suppose she realized there's nothing she can do short of punishing him somehow, and even that hasn't helped.  
  
You sigh, gazing at his profile. This morning you met around the corner of your street and he immediately gave you a half hug. You thought he was going to kiss you, the way he leaned closer, but he must have been teasing, you think, for he let go soon enough.  
  
"Come on. We don't want to be late," he said, winking.  
  
He bites on the tip of his pen, and then he's back to doodling, but you're still focusing on his mouth, on the way his tongue slips out to wet his beautiful lips. You take a deep breath, wishing you could kiss him right now, but, damn, you still have some twenty minutes to go before class ends and two more classes after that.  
  
You sigh, beyond disappointed. And class is so boring today, too. You didn't even want to come today, and you almost convinced Jaejoong to sneak away, maybe go to his house.  
  
"No good," he said, pouting. "One of my sisters is there today."  
  
So you came to school and have tried your best to pay attention. However, he needs only move slightly and…  
  
"Park Yoochun! Pay attention!" Mrs. Sung snaps, startling you. She's standing just a few feet away. "Read the next paragraph."  
  
You scramble to find the place where your classmate left off, and you're lucky enough to begin at the right place. Mrs. Sung leaves you alone after you finish, but you glare at her back as she walks away.  
  
Once you're sure she won't bother you again, you turn to look at him again; he's watching you, grinning. _Trouble_ , he mouths at you and you flip him off. He covers his mouth to muffle his laugh and soon goes back to doodling. You go back to Jaejoong-watching.  
  
  
"You need to stop doing that," he tells you when you meet outside the classroom. You start toward your next class.  
  
"Doing what?" He knows you watch him all the time, how can he not when he catches you half of the time?  
  
However, he doesn't answer, just grabs your arm and leads you to the opposite direction.  
  
"Hyung, what are you doing?" you ask, beginning to panic. "We have class now."  
  
He doesn't listen, though (you don't resist him, either), until you reach the boys' bathroom. The stalls are empty, but the place smells a bit, and, really, you don't want to get into trouble.  
  
"Jaejoong hyung…" His lips pressing to yours interrupt whatever you were going to say. You close your eyes, wanting to just feel. He's so close now and you have been wanting this all day. Why fight it?  
  
Lack of breath forces you apart, and you can only gaze into his eyes.  
  
"We'll be late for class," he says, smiling slightly.  
  
"So?" You never do this, he's always the one pulling at you to engage in delinquent acts.  
  
"So nothing," he replies before he kisses you again, snaking his arms around your waist.  
  
  
 **Title: Drowning**  
  
"Now they're trying to convince me to take another class and I said absolutely not," Junsu says, sitting closer to Hyukjae. Hyukjae, in turn, slides his arm around his lover's shoulders. Ever since your argument weeks ago, they seem have gotten closer than they were before then.  
  
"Won't that affect your job, though?" Changmin asks, gaze full of concern. He and Yunho are sitting on the sofa; there's an interesting distance between them (you wonder if that's for your benefit).  
  
"It better not," Hyukjae is the one to talk this time, looking upset. "He's working six days a week, five classes a day. And they're not paying him more."  
  
Junsu smiles affectionately. Ah, he always has liked how protective his lover is of him.  
  
"If it does affect me in any way, I already have a job offer," your best friend says. "I'm even considering taking it. It's a small school, but it's closer and their Music teacher left recently. They’re desperate to find another one and they've agreed to match my current salary."  
  
You sip your drink, listening to the conversation quietly, as per usual. You don't feel like talking or even socializing, but Junsu pushed you to come over.  
  
"You need to stop moping around," he scolded you when he came over last time. It was your free day, a day for resting or doing things around the house. However, when he came down to visit, he found you drunk, lying in bed, the house an absolute mess. He knows why you're depressed, but he'll avoid talking about _him_. Thankfully.  
  
"Sounds good," Yunho says. He sounds more like when you first met him, tone light and even happy (there's none of the bitterness he kept showing the last few months). "And change is always good."  
  
You feel Junsu's gaze on you, but you ignore him. Instead, you excuse yourself and make your way out to the balcony. Sometimes you really get tired about Junsu going on and on about your job.  
  
"I don't want to quit," you'll tell him time and time again. It's like he doesn't _want_ to understand that, right now, work is the only thing keeping you alive. Otherwise, if you didn't have that…  
  
"Yoochun." You look behind you: Changmin's closing the door. He walks up to you and stands at the railing (he doesn't seem to mind the cigarette smoke, though he always hated it back when you were together).  
  
"Won't Yunho get jealous that you're out here alone with me?" you ask, making sure to keep your tone light. Changmin shrugs, glancing at you.  
  
"He can be jealous if he wants to be," he replies. He tries to sound nonchalant, but you can tell he actually likes the thought of the other man reacting just like that.  
  
You flick your cigarette and take another drag.  
  
"So, what brings you out here?" You don't feel like beating around the bush. You're tired, angry, anxious, and you don't feel like being pushed around.  
  
"I just want to talk," he answers. "I'll go if…"  
 _  
_"Stay." You sigh, staring down at the street. "You look happy with him."  
  
His breath hitches. Did he not expect you to mention their relationship?  
  
"I am," he answers, though hesitantly. "He's… a really good guy. And, well… he's being really understanding. About me not wanting to be in a serious relationship, yet."  
  
You hum softly in thought.  
  
"He must really love you, then," you say. "Why don't you want to be in a serious relationship yet, anyway? We broke up months ago."  
 _  
_"Don't ask me that," he says, looking into your eyes. "It may not mean much to you, but what you and I had…"  
 _  
_"Changmin…"  
 _  
_"I miss it, and I miss you. Nothing's going to change that right now."  
  
You sigh, closing your eyes and leaning against the railing (you choose not to admit that you miss him, too).  
  
"And Yunho really doesn't care? He doesn't mind that you still love someone else?"  
 _  
_"No," he says. "He misses Jaejoong, you know."  
  
Not surprising. They were together for much longer than you and Changmin, and the things they must have gone through together…  
  
"Are you still seeing him?" he asks softly. You're sure Junsu must have told him _something_ , but then again, your best friend does manage to surprise you every once in a while.  
  
You shake your head.  
  
"That's over with, you say." Your heart breaks at the words, but they're true and you don't want to lie. "I haven't seen him in weeks."  
  
He raises his brow, and you can see he doesn't believe you.  
  
"What? You didn't think I could break away from him?" you ask, hurt by his reaction (which is stupid, considering how much you have hurt him).  
  
"I know you love him," he replies softly. "And what I think isn't important. I just…" He bites his lip and you see it: worry, love, even pity. Fuck, you don't want…  
  
The words get stuck in your throat when he leans forward and kisses you, deeply. You kiss back, unable to resist his touch (you're desperate for affection and, fuck, it's not like you don't love Changmin any more).  
  
Changmin breaks the kiss soon enough and gazes into your eyes.  
  
"I just want you to be happy," he says. You stare at each other for what seems like forever. How can he feel this way after what you did to him? You deserve to have his hate and his contempt, yet here he is, acting like you're the one who deserves…  
  
He sighs, kisses you one more time and leaves. You can only watch him walk away, feeling like the miserable bastard that you are.  
  
  
 **Title: Chains**  
  
"We were pleased by the response the product got from the 18 to 25 age group. If you'll please look at this diagram…"  
  
Your phone rings, interrupting your extremely important presentation.  
  
 _Fuck!_ you think, rushing to grab the device, which is conveniently placed on top of the table.  
  
"I apologize," you say, glancing at the screen. You see _his_ name and immediately turn the phone off. Your superiors don't look all that satisfied by your apology, each brandishing displeased expressions around the long meeting table. You swallow hard. "Shall I continue?"  
  
Luckily, though, you manage to fix things later on. Your boss and your other superiors congratulate you on the presentation (which you spent all week working on). Their words of praise and encouragement should make you feel like the luckiest being on earth, yet they fall on deaf ears. Or rather, an unfeeling heart.  
  
They know you work hard, that you spend most of your time at the office, making sure that work is done on time. You have all twenty-three accounts in your hands, and you're lucky that each company becomes busier at different times of the year, otherwise you're sure you would have collapsed from exhaustion already.  
  
Nevertheless, you smile and bow, promising you'll work even harder.  
  
All you really want to do is send them all to hell and leave the company once and for all.  
  
You're glad that it's over for now, though. You begin a new project tomorrow, and you don't need to send out questionnaires for at least a week. Life should get easier now and you should have some free time. You're not looking forward to it.  
  
Sighing, you grab your phone. Why in the world is Jaejoong calling again? Has your refusal to see him or talk during the last three weeks not been enough of an indication that _you don't want to see him again?_ As soon as you turn it on, though, you're unable to hide your shock: fifteen voice messages, left in less than forty minutes.  
  
Your heart beats faster. Should you call him? Maybe he needs your help, why else would he call so many times? But then you remember the two nights he came over to your place last week: he kept talking into the intercom, asking you to let him up. He didn't sound remorseful, just his usual crazy self. You ended up locking yourself in your room just so that you wouldn't have to listen to his voice (or else you would have let him in again and all your efforts would have been for nothing).  
  
One by one, you erase each of his messages, not bothering to listen to even one. _It's not worth it_ , you tell yourself, _he's not worth any of this._  
  
Once you're done, you throw the phone inside a drawer and pile a bunch of folders on top of it.  
  
 _Out of sight, out of mind_ , you think to yourself before you go back to work.  
  
  
 **Title: Dying**  
  
"You haven't moved on at all," he told you during the weekend. You were sitting together on your balcony, drinking and chatting (Hyukjae had rehearsal with his dance students). It wasn't long before Junsu brought _him_ up. You wanted to be angry, but you didn't have the energy left for even that.  
  
"He's out of my life for good," you argued. "I haven't seen him in weeks, and I don't answer his phone calls. What else am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Talking with him would be good." Had Junsu finally gone insane? "As in actually trapping him and asking him what the hell is wrong with him. Haven't you been wondering since forever? And then maybe you can have some closure and really let go."  
  
You hated your best friend for a whole five minutes after that. He was— _is_ —right, though. You'll never be able to really move on unless that mystery is solved. Drinking, smoking, spending ridiculous hours at your workplace, it sounds so pathetic. You thought you could forget him like that, but, now you know (thanks, like always, to Junsu), that you have just been lying to yourself.  
  
"Maybe then I'll be able to look at you and not think 'Shit, my best friend is slowly killing himself and there's nothing I can do'," he said angrily, glaring at you before chugging down some more beer.  
  
The conversation hasn't stopped replaying in your mind all week. It's already Thursday and you're wondering what to do. Should you call him? What will you do if he has decided he doesn't want to see you again on account of you ignoring him for so long? (The thought makes your heart clench and you almost want to throw up.)  
  
You end up taking refuge in work (like you always do). It's easier to focus on numbers and charts, no feelings, no nothing involved save for a mechanical knowledge (that you never wanted, in the first place).  
  
You become engrossed in pages and pages of publicity ideas and charts and expectations, so much that you nearly jump out of your skin when your office phone rings.  
  
"Sir, it's a Kim Junsu. Needs to speak to you urgently," your assistant speaks right away. You frown, looking around for your cell phone.  
  
"Let the call through," you ask and then there's a click. "Junsu?" Ah, there it is. The screen shows about six missed calls; only then you start to worry. "What is it? Did something happen?"  
 _  
_"You need to come home, now, if you can," he says, sounding slightly agitated.  
  
"Why? What happened?"  
 _  
_"Don't fucking ask what and get your butt home!" He hangs up on you. You can only stare at the phone, shocked and worried.  
  
Your boss lets you go when you explain you have a family emergency (Junsu is the closest you have to family right now, so it's not like you're really lying), and you rush out of the office. Afternoon traffic doesn't care if you're in a hurry or not, though, so you're forced to wait (all the while your heart beats hard in your chest, each beat more painful). You can't stop wondering what happened. Is Junsu hurt? Or maybe Hyukjae? Fear sets in the pit of your stomach, but you can only hang on.  
  
As soon as you get to your building, you rush up to Junsu's apartment. You ring the doorbell several times, enough times that he knows it must be you. When he opens the door, you're relieved to see that he is physically fine.  
  
"Yoochun! Thank God you're here!" he says, hugging you quickly. Then he's pulling you inside the apartment. "I'm sorry to get you out of work, but I really had no choice."  
  
You let him drag you past the living room and into the hall.  
  
"Junsu, what the hell is going on? What happened?"  
  
He doesn't answer, just pulls you into the guest room. Only then you understand.  
  
His clothes are dirty, ragged, even torn in some places. His face is dirty, smudges of black and gray covering his normally perfect skin. There's blood on his clothes and skin, but you can't see a wound anywhere. His hair looks oily, unkempt, nothing like the last time you saw him. What in the world…?  
  
"I found him downstairs, huddled just in front of the building," Junsu says softly. "I tried to convince him to go to the hospital, but he kept calling your name."  
  
You must close your eyes, you need to look away or else you don't know what you'll do. Your body reacts faster than you do, however—you manage to reach the bathroom before you lose your entire lunch.  
  
 _What the fuck?_ you keep asking yourself. _What the fuck happened to him?_


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Self-harm & Suicidal actions

**Title: Happy  
**  
"How do you get these, anyway?"  
  
He grins at you, opening another bottle and taking a swig.  
  
"Does it matter?" he asks, offering the bottle to you. You snort but take it and drink from it. "I don't steal these, if that's what you're worried about."  
  
You shake your head.  
  
"I thought maybe you took them from home," you reply. Jaejoong seems to always have alcohol around, at least when you go out at night. "Or maybe one of your sisters bought them for you."  
  
This time, he snorts, rolling his eyes.  
  
"My sisters?" He takes the bottle from your hand and drinks. "No, no one in my family would buy alcohol for me."  
  
You decide not to ask anymore after he turns up the radio (his way of saying he doesn't want to talk about it anymore). Another night at the beach. These outings seem to be getting more frequent as the end of the school year approaches, but you don't mind (Jaejoong isn't the only one who needs an escape). He may be worried about his performance at school since he may need to take classes during vacation if he fails again. You really wish he would study more; you even encourage him to when he comes home with you, but he becomes frustrated and restless too easily.  
  
He starts singing along the song on the radio, pausing to drink from the bottle every few seconds. He has such a beautiful singing voice, you think. You could just close your eyes and listen to him forever. So, you do.  
  
The song ends and another begins, a soft love song about beginnings and falling in love. Months ago, you would have rolled your eyes at the lyrics, but now…  
  
"Are you falling asleep on me?" he asks, suddenly, poking your side. You jump and glare at him.  
  
"Can't a guy just rest his eyes?" you reply, poking him back. He shrieks in protest, so uncharacteristic of him; you burst out laughing, hard.  
  
"Asshole," he says, swatting your arm. "Not funny." His words make you laugh even harder.  
  
"You shriek like a girl!" you tease, wiping at the tears in the corners of your eyes.  
  
He glares at you again and goes back to drinking. After a while, you calm down and he's back to singing. You know he's pretending to be mad at you, so you move closer, snuggling up to him.  
  
"I was just teasing," you apologize. "Forgive me?"  
  
He pretends to think, turning away from you.  
  
"Maybe," he says finally. "If you earn it."  
  
You lock gazes and you don't need to ask what he means. You lean forward to kiss him; he kisses back, moving so that you can slide your arms around his waist more comfortably. You think you hear the bottle fall from his grasp; you couldn't care less.  
  
  
**Title: Dread  
**  
"We need to get him to a hospital," Junsu insists, arms crossed over his chest. You're sitting on the bed, right next to Jaejoong, trying to find the source of the blood.  
  
"Help me get his shirt off," you ask, choosing to ignore him. A part of you knows that he's right, but you don't want to make a decision without _his_ consent, at the very least.  
  
Junsu sighs impatiently but comes up to the bed. Between the two of you, you manage to pull off the blue shirt. The sight beneath it makes you gag.  
  
"What the fuck?" Junsu asks, frowning. "Yoochun…"  
  
You shake your head. You don't want to hear questions, nor any possible theories as to how Jaejoong's chest and arms have ended up with cuts and bruises all over. Your best friend ignores you, though, and surprises you once more.  
  
"They seem self-inflicted," he says, holding one of Jaejoong's arms and examining a cut. You want to yell at him to let go of your lover, but you can only watch. "If not, who would do this to him?"  
  
You swallow hard, closing your eyes. _Coward_ , you tell yourself, unwilling to look at the mess that is the man you love. Why would he hurt himself like this? It must have been someone else…  
  
"There are some recent scars, too," Junsu continued. "Yoochun, we need to get him to a hospital now. Otherwise, I swear…"  
  
"Can't we just wait until he wakes up, at least?" you finally speak, glaring at him. Junsu glares back.  
  
"You're an idiot," he says, before he sighs impatiently. "And so am I. Obviously." Junsu moves toward the door. "I'm going to prepare a bath for him. He looks like he hasn't bathed in weeks."  
  
"Fuck," you mutter after he's gone. This is all your fault. Why didn't you answer his phone calls? Why didn't you open the fucking door? Then maybe you could have prevented this from happening, you wouldn't be looking at this mess.  
  
"What the fuck did you do to yourself?" you ask him. He just continues to sleep.  
  
Junsu returns soon enough.  
  
"Finish undressing him," he asks. You're relieved to see that his lower body is unmarred, maybe a bruise here and there, but nothing like his chest. Junsu takes his arms, you take his legs, and somehow you manage to drag him to the bathroom. The water is just the perfect temperature. Junsu gives you a washcloth and some soap so that you can start; he chooses to wash Jaejoong's hair.  
  
"He smells terrible," he says, wrinkling his nose as he works through the longish black hair. "Do you think…?"  
_  
_ "I don't want to think," you tell him, carefully washing Jaejoong's chest. The blood begins to turn the water slightly red; you're relieved when you realize the cuts are shallow and already healing. You hear Junsu sigh, but you really don't want to talk.  
  
You're forced to change the water and you hold Jaejoong up while Junsu fills the bathtub once again. _This is ridiculous_ , you think more than once, but, really, it's your fault that this is happening in the first place. And Junsu… you really don't deserve him. Any other friend would have sent you to hell before doing what he's doing now.  
  
Once you're done, you carry him back into the bedroom. You've only just finished dressing him up in a t-shirt and shorts, when he opens his eyes.  
  
"Yoochun…" he whispers, smiling slightly. You swallow hard, looking for something to say, but he closes his eyes and falls asleep again.  
  
"I didn't believe Junsu when he told me." You look to the door and see Hyukjae standing at the doorway, gazing at Jaejoong with sadness. "I know you said no hospitals, but, maybe a doctor, then?"  
  
You exhale.  
  
"I don't know," and you really don't. You're just so confused, so hurt, you don't know what the hell to do.  
  
"Maybe you should call Yunho," he suggests. You look up at him. Now, there's a good idea. Can you do it, though?  
  
"I should," you agree. "Meanwhile…" He's deeply asleep, dark bags under his eyes.  
  
"What are you going to do with him?" You're sure he already knows the answer.  
  
"Take him home."  
  
  
**Title: Fade  
**  
"Are you all right?" your assistant asks the next morning when you call in sick.  
  
"Just a bug, I think," you say. She assures you she will inform your superiors about your absence and then you're on your own.  
  
He's in the bedroom, sleeping, has been since you and Hyukjae managed to bring him down to your apartment yesterday. Jaejoong was slightly awake by then, so you chose to grab the opportunity before he fell asleep again.  
  
"I still say hospital," Junsu said as he helped by opening the door to your apartment.  
  
"I think we've talked about that enough times already," Hyukjae protested, grunting slightly.  
  
Jaejoong seemed to awaken a bit more at their words, his body tensing up.  
  
"No hospitals," you assured him. Once in bed, he fell asleep once more and you were able to breathe again (or so you told yourself).  
  
You haven't slept a wink since then; you can only watch him and wonder. What happened? Will he ever wake up? Is he sick? So tired of wondering. You consider calling Yunho more than once, but your stupid pride gets in the way. He would help, you know he would. Didn't Changmin say Yunho still cares for Jaejoong? He's just a phone call away, so close, and yet…  
  
It's already late afternoon when you decide to lie in bed with a book. You've been restless all day, no meals (unless you call cigarette smoke food), just walking around, or sitting, thinking until you think your head will explode. Stupid book. You can’t even concentrate on a few simple words.  
  
You're about to put it aside, when you feel movement next to you; you watch as Jaejoong moves to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling.  
  
"Hyung," you say softly. He turns to look at you, sleepy and so tired. "You've been sleeping for a long time."

  
He doesn't say anything, just stares at you. His eyes look so empty, it's like he's not even there (the thought hurts more than you can bear).  
  
Finally, you sigh.  
  
"I'm sorry," you tell him. "I was angry and… I shouldn't have ignored you." You press your lips tight and look away, guilt eating at you. "Fuck, I didn't know what to do."  
  
He doesn't answer, though. You can't blame him: why would he want to talk to you after you turned him away when he most needed you?  
  
When you look at him again, you realize he's crying, tears falling and staining his beautiful face.  
  
"Shit," you mutter, moving to hold him close. He doesn't make any sound, but you can feel his chest heaving, until he can't hold it in anymore; each sob stabs at your heart over and over again. You wish you could say something—anything—to ease his pain, but you have nothing.  
  
So you hold him, you kiss his hair; it's all you can do.  
  
  
**Title: Crash  
**  
_"Fix me."_  
  
You wake up to the sound of someone crying. As soon as you look to his side of the bed, you see him: rocking back and forth, sobbing so hard he can barely breathe. You want to touch him, hold him, but you hesitate. What are you supposed to do? This isn't the Jaejoong you know, and it scares you. You know how to deal with him when he laughs and sings and acts crazy, but now you're at a loss. You can't just leave him like this, though.  
  
"Hyung," you call out softly. He doesn't stop, just covers his face to muffle the sounds. You move closer, putting your arms around him. "What is it?"  
  
He can't answer, but he lets you pull him into an embrace. He keeps crying; the sound alone kills you. You have never seen him like this, so weak and vulnerable, so frail you're afraid he'll break in your arms.  
  
"Fix me," he whispers, again and again.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?" it's all you can ask, tears running down your face (his pain is your pain, you're never more aware of this than right now, and, god, it hurts). Anger, guilt, love, so many feelings hit you whenever he's close, you're a confused mess and you hate it. Why are you so useless when he needs you most?  
  
"I'm so tired," he says, over and over again, breath hitching.  
  
_Of what?_ you want to ask, but you don't. You just hold him, you let him cry until he's so exhausted he can't sit up any longer. You lie down and keep him close, until he falls asleep.  
  
Hours later, you're still awake, staring up at the ceiling. _What am I supposed to do?_ you ask yourself again and again. The situation is killing you, Jaejoong speaks in riddles. Are you supposed to just force him?  
  
"Fuck!" you mutter, angry at feeling so powerless.  
  
  
**Title: Change  
**  
"I'm home," you call out into your dark apartment. All the lights are off, but the sliding door to the balcony is open.  
  
You see him as soon as you walk closer, standing at the railing, wearing only pajama bottoms and smoking a cigarette. You have to sigh. Nearly five days have passed since Junsu found him and very little has changed. He sleeps most of the time, he barely eats (he's nearly skin and bones now); sometimes he writes in a notebook you gave him when he asked (you tried to read his writing once, but nothing made sense); he doesn't want to talk to you, though he frequently sits close to you when you least expect it. You thought you would ask for explanations as soon as he got better, but days keep going by and he's the same.  
  
"You'll catch cold," you say, walking up to the railing. He doesn't look at you, just shrugs and continues to smoke.  
  
"I'll be fine," he replies, voice devoid of any emotion.  
  
You bite your lower lip, wondering what to say. You're afraid of saying something stupid, of driving him away without meaning to. How long can you stand this, anyway?  
  
"Push him to tell you," Yunho told you not so long ago. "He wants to tell you everything, he just doesn't know how to."  
  
"Talking with him would be good," Junsu urged you. "As in actually trapping him and asking him what the hell is wrong with him. Haven't you been wondering since forever?"  
  
Can you do it, though? And, if you do, will he run away like he always does?  
  
_I can't go on like this_ , you think, looking at him. You take a deep breath.  
  
"Please tell me what's going on," you tell him. He doesn't react, though. "I won't judge you, you know that. I just want to help you."  
  
He doesn't move, still staring at the street below. You grow more and more frustrated every second that goes by, and, shit, it hurts! Why can't he see that you're hurting, too? So many years, just wondering and thinking about him, where he was, how he lived. Now he's here, he's safe. Have you not shown him that you love him? Did you not before you cut him off from your life?  
  
You shake your head, ready to give up, when he sighs.  
  
"I'm just an idiot," he says, suddenly. "Sometimes it's too much, sometimes it's just not enough." He sighs. What is he talking about? "I'd rather feel too much than nothing at all. That's probably why I fuck up so much."  
  
You stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. What is he talking about?  
  
"I don't understand," you admit. "Ever since we were kids, you've always been like this. I never thought much about it…"  
  
"Crazy Jaejoong," and he smiles at you fondly, his eyes showing any kind of emotion for the first time in days. "I didn't understand it myself. I still don't." He sighs, putting out his cigarette. "What do you want me to tell you, Yoochunnie? I don't have any answers."  
_  
_ "Yes, you do," you argue. "Except you run away every time I ask."  
  
He considers your words, lips a line between amusement and confusion.  
  
"I suppose I do," he says, finally. "You probably have this tragic story already made up…"  
_  
_ "I don't. All I ever wanted to know was what happened when you left that night. You have no idea how many nights I stayed up, thinking you were dead or…"  
_  
_ "I wasn't," he says, as if that fixed everything. "Though I wanted to be." His eyes fill with tears. "Before I met you, it was all I wanted. And I almost got my wish back then."  
  
Your heart stops. Is he saying…?  
  
"Is that why you were away for so many days? And why you looked like hell when you came to say goodbye?" You're angry, and… Fuck! How could he…? "You went and did something and you didn't even tell me? What did you think I would have done when I found out, you asshole!?"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
"You're strong," he says, as if that were enough. "Fuck, Yoochun, I didn't know what else to do!"  
  
You look away from him. Does it really matter now, though?  
  
"Why don't you get help?" you ask, somehow managing to speak softly. "Go to a doctor, get treatment for whatever-"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
"They're more fucked up than I am." He laughs derisively. "I've seen my share of doctors, and, trust me…" He shakes his head, reaching for the pack of cigarettes on one of the chairs.  
  
You don't let him; you grab him and hold him tight. No matter what he says…  
  
"I just want you to live," you whisper. "Can't you hold on to that at least?"  
  
He sighs, sliding his arms around you. But he says nothing.  
  
  
**Title: Children  
**  
"We should go to the amusement park," he says, smiling brightly at you. "You can be my date!"  
  
You roll your eyes. There he goes again with the flirting. If anyone ever stopped to listen to your conversations, they would think you a couple for sure. "Baby!" he'll call out to you sometimes and he'll put his arm around your shoulders. He loves it, of course, he'll grin like a devil whenever someone stops to look at the two of you. You doubt he has a crush on you, but really, you could do without the exaggerated displays of affection.  
  
"Man, don't say that," you tell him, glaring. "At this rate, everyone at school probably thinks we're a couple."  
  
He grins.  
  
"Aww, am I not pretty enough to be your girlfriend?" He laughs when you make as if to hit him with a book. "I'm just having fun! People at school don't even care."  
_  
_ "Well, I do," you reply. "What if all the girls think I'm into boys?"  
  
He rolls his eyes.  
  
"Someone here is unsure of his manhood," he teases. "Lighten up, Yoochunnie. I'm just teasing." He walks in silence for a few seconds (a miracle, as far as you're concerned). "About the amusement park, though, I really want to go. And you have to come with me! I don't want to go alone."  
  
He pouts at you and you wonder, not for the first time ever, whether he really is older than you. Jaejoong is so childish sometimes, and the way he talks and moves, he can go on and on just telling you stories you don't really care about. That's part of his charm, you suppose.  
  
"All right, all right, I'll go!" you finally give in. He nearly tackles you in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
"Yay!" Oh, is this guy for real? He smiles happily. "Hey, wanna go for ice cream? My treat."  
_  
_ "Okay."  
  
As friendly and open as he seems to be, though, you know so very little about him. How long have you been friends? Ah, you can't even remember now; it feels as though he has always been in your life. You think you have told him nearly everything there is to know about you: your parents' divorce, missing your brother, some of your hobbies (though you never tell him about your secret dream to be a professional singer), your ex-girlfriend… When it comes to him, however…  
  
"You want that caramel goop again?" he asks, nose wrinkling at the thought of your favorite ice cream flavor.  
  
"It's not goop," you argue. Jaejoong doesn't really like sweets, it shows even in his favorite ice cream flavor: mint. Honestly, who wants to eat _mint_ ice cream?  
  
"It'll give you cavities. Girls don't find cavities attractive, you know."  
  
When you glance at him, you realize he's teasing again.  
  
"Ugh, leave me alone." You stick your tongue out at him and he covers his mouth as he laughs.  
  
As annoying as you may find him sometimes, you're glad he's your friend. Really, what did you have before he pushed his way into your life? A nonexistent family life, a broken relationship, no real friends. Jaejoong, on the other hand… He's always there for you, he can tell when you're sad, when you're happy. How many people can say that about a friend?  
  
You wish you could say that you're the same with him, but… you don't know him enough, no matter how hard you try. He dodges every question you ask about his family or about the possibility that he may have other friends aside from you.  
  
"Nah," he said the first time you asked. "I would've introduced you by now."  
  
Kim Jaejoong: mystery boy.  
  
You laugh at the ridiculous phrase, immediately picturing him as a superhero or something similar.  
  
He doesn't notice, though. He's rushing to the ice cream store and is already in line. You have to smile at the sight. How can anyone be so pure and innocent?  
  
  
**Title: Soul  
**  
"I'm home," you call out. You don't know why you bother—it's not like Jaejoong ever answers. The house is so quiet. He's probably sleeping again.  
  
You sigh, taking off your jacket and tie, leaving your suitcase on the sofa. You have brought work home again. You're horribly behind in pretty much every project you had going when Jaejoong came back into your life, and you're about to go crazy. Your current situation with your lover doesn't help either; you barely get any sleep, maybe an hour or two each night. Shit, you really don't feel like working the entire night. In a way, you're glad you have an excuse to come home earlier, being at the office just… If only you were strong enough to leave that place.  
  
You start unbuttoning your shirt as you walk into the bedroom, fully expecting to find Jaejoong in bed. Strange. He wasn't in the kitchen. Maybe he's in the bathroom? You change your shirt, suddenly noting that the room looks neater than it has in months. Even the bed is made, a rare thing since Jaejoong has been living with you.  
  
_Maybe he's feeling better_ , you think, unable to suppress a smile. You’re pulling sweatpants out of a drawer, mentally planning dinner (though you know he won’t eat it), when you notice there's something on your pillow: a folded piece of paper. Your shoulders tighten; that odd feeling the state of your home provoked earlier comes back as you read the note.  
  
_‘I'm sorry_ ,’ it reads in his messy handwriting. Your heart beats fast at the words. Has he…? Did he leave?  
  
"Hyung!" you call out, starting to look all over the apartment. His notebook is at its usual place on the coffee table, and his pack of cigarettes is right next to it. When you turn back to the hall, you finally notice that the bathroom door is closed. You knock on it.  
  
"Hyung, are you in there?" You wait a few seconds, but there's no answer. It's unlocked; you turn the doorknob, hoping to find him there. And you do.  
  
He's lying in the bathtub, the water so red you wonder how long he must have been in there. One of his arms is hanging out of the tub, and you see his wrist, the skin open and red. He looks so pale, eyes closed. Is he…?  
  
"Hyung!" You hurry to him and get him out of the water. He's so cold, fuck, your hands are shaking. What do you do? What the hell are you supposed to do? You can't think straight, and you think you'll throw up any second now.  
  
Then you remember. You grab your cell phone, and you dial the number you've done your best to ignore for so long.  
  
"Yoochun?" he answers, sounding surprised.  
  
"Yunho! Jaejoong, he… Oh, god, Yunho…" Tears are running down your face; you keep Jaejoong close, so close, you don't want to let go. What if…?  
  
"Okay, calm down. What happened?" he sounds calm and in control, and fuck, you hate him but you need him right now or else…  
  
You tell him as best as you can, your breath hitching, your heart beating so fast it hurts.  
  
"I'm calling an ambulance right now," he says immediately. "And I'll be there in a few minutes. Call Junsu if you can, okay?"  
  
You can only nod, unable to speak another word.  
  
_Don't be dead_ , you tell him in your head. _Please don't be dead._  
  
  
**Title: Crushed**  
  
"You found him just in time," Yunho tells you, sitting next to you.  
  
He came over as fast as he said he would. As soon as you let him inside, you led him to the bathroom and he checked on Jaejoong, placing long fingers on your lover's throat.  
  
"He's still alive," he said, eyes filling with tears. You wanted to cry in relief, but the ambulance, where was it? If they didn't arrive soon…  
  
Once at the hospital, you couldn't keep still. What was going on? Would they tell you? If he died… How would you go on? Could you go on knowing he was gone forever?  
  
You couldn't reach Junsu. He would put things into perspective, you knew, if only you had the chance to talk to him. But no, tonight he was probably busy, with Hyukjae or who knew what. _I fucking need you right now!_ you thought at him, fighting more tears.  
  
"They're doing a blood transfusion," he continues, voice soft in the emergency room. "The doctor says we almost lost him."  
  
You look at him for the first time since you arrived at the hospital. He looks worried, eyes filled with grief; you can tell he has been pulling at his own hair in frustration. You, on the other hand, are feeling numb. You don’t know whether to be grateful for it. Everything feels like a horrible nightmare and you just want to wake up.  
  
Suddenly, he touches your shoulder.  
  
"Yoochun, he's going to be all right," he says (you think he may be trying to convince himself, as well). Your breath hitches, though.  
  
"How did you do it?" you ask him, close to tears again. "How were you able to live with him, with his ups and downs, and shit, Yunho! How the fuck did you do it and not go insane?"  
  
He gives you a sad look.  
  
"The same way you have," he answers. You want to protest that you have done nothing to help Jaejoong, not like Yunho has. "I loved him and tried to help him do what was best for him." He shrugs. "We were together five years and, trust me, sometimes I just wanted to get up and leave, especially after we ran into you. I knew what would happen and I tried to convince him not to. He didn't listen."  
  
Another thing that's your fault? You try to shake the memories and feelings away.  
  
"What is his illness or condition or whatever it is he has?" you ask softly.  
  
"Yunho."  
  
You both look up and your mouth nearly hangs open at the sight before you.  
  
"Yoochun," she says, looking shocked. You feel awful that you can't remember her name, but, what is she doing here?  
  
"Nuna," you call her as you did so many years ago and even that night she found you sleeping in front of her house.  
  
"I'm glad you came," Yunho says politely, standing up. "You'll need to fill out some papers."  
  
She nods but then glances at you again.  
  
"I hope we can talk later," she says, before following Yunho to the nurses' desk.  
  
You can only stare as she walks away.


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: Believe**  
  
"We're almost there!"  
  
The sky feels like it's falling, it's raining so hard you can barely see where you're going. You run, though, and he holds your hand, grasping it tightly, as if afraid he'll lose you if he lets go. You don't mind: despite all your protests, you can never get enough of his touch.  
  
Thankfully, you know your way home; you rush through the streets, leading him, feeling an amazing rush of adrenaline (though you're not sure why). All you know is that you want to get home (the one place you feel safe enough to want to kiss Jaejoong and never let him go).  
  
The rain doesn't let up; instead, it intensifies, the water loud and heavy. You're almost there, however, you're so close you think you can see your front door.  
  
"Come on!" you yell over the rain and he laughs behind you.  
  
When you finally make it, you laugh hard. You were half afraid either of you would end up hit by a car or hurt by some other means. Yet, here you are, standing at your front door, safety and warmth only a few steps away. You're sure he's right next to you as you open the door, but then you look back: he's standing under the rain, eyes closed as he faces the sky. The sight takes your breath away, he's so beautiful, but why…?  
  
Suddenly, he looks at you and smiles, reaching out to you. You can only laugh again, shaking your head.  
  
"Come on!" he says, grinning.  
  
"Hyung! We'll catch cold. Let’s go inside!"  
  
He smirks, wet dark bangs stuck to his forehead, dark eyes bright. Damn it.  
  
He makes a victorious sound as he pulls you to him, hugging you close.  
  
"Doesn't this feel amazing?" he asks into your ear. You shiver, but you have no time to protest; next thing you know, his lips are pressed to yours and you stop caring about anything else. He holds you tight, he makes you feel good and safe; he makes your heart beat faster with just a glance. You wish you could always be like this, just the two of you, loving each other without a care.  
  
He pulls away too soon for your liking, grinning at you.  
  
"I wish every day were just like this," he says. You want to ask why, but you don't. He leans his head on your shoulder and you close your eyes, holding him tightly, the rain falling over you.  
  
  
 **Title: Past**  
  
"Go home," she said that night, looking down at you under the night sky, eyes filling with tears. "He’ll call you when he’s able to, all right?" She tried to be gentle, you remember, even though she had never regarded you positively. You were just her brother's "special" friend, the boy who came over occasionally to a house filled with silence and distrusting glares.  
  
"I thought you had gone home," she says now, standing right before you. She looks older, but just as pretty as you remember. She was the oldest out of the three young women who still lived at home back then, the only one who seemed to care about Jaejoong (as far as you could see).  
  
"How is he?" You're exhausted. You've run out of tears already; your chest hurts so much you can barely breathe.  
  
"Alive," she answers, sitting next to you. "They say he's lucky. He'll recover." She sighs, staring at the floor. "Jaejoong was always strong." Suddenly, she laughs derisively. "Seems like even Death doesn't want him, no matter what he does."  
  
"Nuna," you complain, giving her a hurt look. You're surprised when you see tears running down her face.  
  
"I love my brother," she says. "I know it never seemed like it, but I love him." She gazes at you. "I loved him even when nobody else did."  
  
You swallow hard, ready to ask so many questions, but they won't come out. Your mind is a jumbled mess still.  
  
"I've always loved him," you say instead. "Back then and now."  
  
She wipes her tears and regards you curiously. What is going through her mind? What does she see when she looks at you? You gaze back, sure the questions are clear in your eyes; she needs only read them for what they are.   
  
"I didn't know he had found you again," she says unexpectedly.  
  
"Again?"  
  
She nods.  
  
"He came back home, maybe a year after he left," she says, looking away from you. "He went to your house, but your father said you had left for college and refused to give him an address." She frowns. "He came home crying."  
  
Jaejoong went looking for you? The news surprise you.  
  
"Nuna, I need to know." You take a deep breath before you speak. "What's wrong with him? He doesn't want to tell me."  
  
She sighs, wetting her lips.  
  
"Our parents thought he would grow out of it. A phase, they called it." She snorts derisively, shaking her head.  
  
"It's obviously more than a phase," you tell her, suddenly feeling stronger. "His frequent absences to school, and then the way he acted, like he was drunk all the time…"  
 _  
_"But he didn't want to be helped, either," she says, angrily. "Once he knew, I wanted to help, but he would refuse, time and time again. He would disappear, leaving me to wonder where the hell he was." She cries harder. "Why doesn't he care what he does to everyone around him?"  
  
You sigh, patience running thin.  
  
"Nuna, what is his problem?"  
  
She shakes her head and stands up, visibly upset.  
  
"Go home," she tells you.   
  
"Nuna!" you protest, and you hate how tired, how helpless you feel. "Please, tell me _something_!"  
  
"He should have told you," she says, chest heaving. "You're tired and you need to rest. He'll still be here."  
  
You stand and grab her arm. She returns your gaze, tears running down her face again.  
  
"I can't," she says. "Not right now."  
  
You watch her walk away, but you can't bring yourself to hate her. It's not her fault that Jaejoong has refused to explain over and over again. You sigh and sit down, letting your head fall forward.   
  
Maybe it's time to go home.  
  
  
 **Title: Aftermath**  
  
"Do you want me to come over?"  
  
You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You've been trying to sleep for hours, but you can't. Maybe you should have accepted Junsu's offer and let him stay with you, or stayed up at his place. He has helped you too much already, though, you can't just keep asking for more. So you went home, straight to bed, and that's where you are now.  
  
"No, I'm all right," you lied. You thought he would argue, but he insisted only one more time before letting you go (now you wish he had insisted just a bit more). The bathroom is still a mess, the bathtub half-filled with reddish water; the floor… Just the thought of it all makes you gag, and yet you can't stop thinking about it. Why can't you just close your eyes and not see him, pale, surrounded by red, eyes closed, looking like life had drained from him?  
  
"Go home," she told you, just like she did so many years ago. Yunho found you again just minutes later.  
  
"I'm going home," he said (you wondered for a full minute where home was, whether it was with Changmin, but you shook the thought off soon enough). "Come on, I'll take you back to your place. You look exhausted."  
  
And you were, so exhausted you thought you would fall on your face the second you stood up. But, still, sleep refuses to come.  
  
"Fix me," he told you, but you didn't know what to do, what he meant, and how could you? He kept silent, gave you no real clues. What were you supposed to do?  
  
You close your eyes. Really, beating yourself up over this won't help at all. Obviously, there was nothing you could do, and if there was, you missed it entirely. You wish his sister would have allowed you to see him, though. You need to see that yes, he's alive, he's still breathing! Yunho assured you that he was, but it just wasn't enough.  
  
Step heavy, you get up and walk over to the bathroom. You force yourself not to gag as you grab all cleaning utensils and start washing away the blood. If sleep won't come, then at least you won't be useless. Eventually, you stop caring, each stain, each small puddle is nothing. And that's the way you want it to be.

Once you're finished, you somehow find the strength to shower and then go back to bed.  
  
Sleep still refuses to come.  
  
  
 **Title: Reason**  
  
"Go right ahead," the nurse told you when you returned the next day and the day after. The first day, you brought him flowers. He was awake, watching TV, or so it seemed. He looked so pale, wrists bandaged nearly up to his elbows.  
  
"How are you?" you asked, speaking softly. He didn't answer, though. About a week later, he still doesn't.  
  
Today you brought him some fruit—he’s always loved fresh fruit—put it on the night table, before sitting next to the bed. He's watching TV again, or so it seems: his eyes are glazed, you can tell he isn't quite there right now. You don't dare to interrupt his thoughts, though. Wherever he is, you're sure it's a happier place than a hospital room. When you touch his arm, you realize he's cold, and you immediately cover him with the comforter.  
  
"I haven't been having a very good time at work," you admit. "My boss is all over my ass because of my latest absences. Junsu thinks I should just quit, but… I'm afraid to. I guess I'm just a coward."  
  
You sigh when he remains still, clearly ignoring you. No change from a few days ago. Why are you surprised? He has decided to hide inside himself and you don't really blame him. You miss him so much, though, you miss waking up next to him, just hearing his voice. Why can't you be the one to help him now, just like Yunho did not so long ago?

The nurse comes in with another IV pack and you frown.  
  
"He won't eat," she says when she notices your gaze. "It's the only way to feed him." ‘For now’ is implied.   
  
You close your eyes, feeling so helpless, so useless. You reach for his free hand and hold it.  
  
"Please, Hyung," you beg him, eyes filling with tears. "I want to help you. I love you, I would do anything for you."  
  
At some point, he closes his eyes and you're left there, holding on to him, feeling lonelier than ever.  
  
When visiting hours end, you kiss his forehead and leave. You go home, eat (or at least you try) and then go to bed. You’ve stopped bringing work home, you just don't have the energy for it. You can only think about _him_ ; you want him to get better, to want to live again. Right now, you can tell he wants to die, he wishes he wasn't stuck in this world he obviously hates.  
  
 _Am I not enough?_ you wonder more than once, no matter how selfish it may seem. You shake your head at the thought, though.  
  
Junsu and Yunho call nearly every day and ask how you are. You aren't surprised at Junsu, but Yunho has been a friend through it all.  
  
"We should have dinner sometime," he said last time. You think he needs to talk, but you still don't know how to feel about him at all.  
  
Changmin has called a couple of times, as well, but your conversations are short and uncomfortable. How you wish they weren't so.  
  
 _I can only wait_ , you tell yourself, closing your eyes and begging for sleep to come.  
  
  
 **Title: Comfortable**  
  
"I'm tired," he says as he lies down on your bed. You join him, not at all surprised when he moves to lean his head on your shoulder.  
  
"Tired? Of what?" He was absent three days in a row and then he came back to school with a written excuse, like nothing had happened.   
  
He shrugs.  
  
"Everything." He sighs. "I just wish I could go far away. Want to come with me?"   
  
You snort.  
  
"I say yes every time you ask," you reply. Almost absently, you start stroking his hair. "What is it, though? Is it your family? School? Me?"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
"Not you, never you," he says, leaning up to kiss your cheek. "My life would be hell if you weren't in it, I don't care how mushy that sounds." You grin (though your heart beats faster in worry).   
  
"We'll go away soon," you remind him. "And we'll be in a new place, new people. Everything will be great."  
  
He sighs, clutching at you tighter.  
  
"No matter what I do, it's always the same." He sounds sad, so sad. "Sometimes I think it would be better if I just killed myself."  
  
You jump, looking at him.  
  
"No!" Does he even realize what he's saying? "It wouldn't be better! What about me? And your family?"  
  
He snorts.  
  
"My family doesn't care." He smiles up at you. "You would miss me?"  
  
His question makes you so angry you want to push him away. Instead, you pull him into a tight hug.  
  
"I'll fucking die if something happens to you." You've never told him that before, but you love him so much, too much. How would you go on if he disappeared from your life?  
  
He hugs back tightly, holding on tighter than you hold him. You want to ask what's wrong, but you know he won't tell you. Why would he even feel this way?  
  
"I love you," he whispers into your ear.  
  
"Me, too," you answer, trying to pull away, but he doesn't let you, holding on for dear life.  
  
  
 **Title: Narrow**  
  
"Yoochun."  
  
You're sitting at your usual chair, holding his hand, like you do every day. He looks at you sometimes, but only when he thinks you're not paying attention. You still come see him, though, you tell him about your day, about the things that happen outside in the world. Apparently, he's silent because he wants to be, no mystery behind it. If only you could hear his voice again…

  
Despair and impatience are beginning to take a toll on you when, suddenly, you hear your name. Yunho is standing at the door, looking at you.  
  
"Join me for a cigarette?" he offers. He sounds just as tired as you do, and you have to wonder, does he come visit often? Does Jaejoong stare at him like he does you?  
  
With a sigh, you push those thoughts away.  
  
"Sure."  
  
You walk up to a designated smoking area and he offers you a cigarette. You accept and soon enough you're "inhaling death", as Changmin liked to call it. The memory makes you snort.  
  
"Changmin hasn't tried to make you quit, yet?"  
  
He looks taken aback, uncomfortable, even. That was not your intention. Nevertheless, you watch his reaction, up until he shrugs.  
  
"I'm trying to quit," he admits, looking into your eyes. "I don't dare smoke near him, though."  
  
You nod.  
  
"He hates the smell and the smoke," you say. "I tried quitting for him, but…" You shrug.  
  
He nods in understanding. He takes a drag and exhales, looking anywhere but at you.  
  
"Did she talk to you?" he asks suddenly.  
  
"Who?"  
 _  
_"Jaejoong's sister. She had said she wanted to talk to you."  
  
You shrug.  
  
"We talked, but… She wasn't very forthcoming. She said Jaejoong should be the one to tell me-"  
 _  
_"He should have," he interrupts you. "I've never understood why he couldn't tell you, though. He has nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
You exhale impatiently.  
  
"Then _you_ tell me,” you say. “I've asked so many times."  
  
Yunho takes a deep breath.  
  
"He has a psychiatric condition. He was misdiagnosed a few times, so he's distrustful of doctors and hospitals…"  
 _  
_"What is this condition?" you ask, close to losing your patience.  
  
"He has bipolar disorder." Oh. "Problem is, his manic episodes, those times when he's euphoric, hyperactive, are more frequent than his depressive episodes. And he doesn't want to accept that he has an illness. As soon as he's off his meds, he forgets everything bad he went through before."  
  
You sit down on a bench, digesting his words. Bipolar. Not a word you hear often. You only knew about one family member, and no one ever really talked about him. You remember everyone being ashamed. Hah. Why are you surprised? Everyone’s ashamed of anything remotely related to mental illness. If Jaejoong’s family is anything like yours…  
  
"So, there's treatment?"  
  
Yunho nods.  
  
"And it can be effective. There's just, well, side effects. He hates them."  
  
You sigh. So much you need to find out now, but at least you have a lead, you know what to look for. He sits next to you.  
  
"If you want to stay by his side, you need to know it won't be easy. You'll need to be there for him."  
  
"Sounds exhausting."  
  
He gives you a wry smile.  
  
"It can be," he admits. "But I promise, it'll be worth it, if you love him like I think you do."  
  
You sit together for a while longer, smoking in silence. You never thought you would feel this comfortable around Yunho, this man you blamed for things he wasn't guilty of. Right now, though, he's your only lifeline. And you will take it.  
  
  
 **Title: Absence**  
  
"You’re leaving early again?" your assistant asks, surprised.  
  
"Yeah. Phone me if there's anything important, all right?"  
  
You can feel your colleagues' gazes as you walk out of the office, but you couldn’t care less. Your bosses have been keeping note of our absences and the days you leave early. Right now, though, you want to get to the hospital and see Jaejoong, you want to see that he's alive and breathing and not cold and dead like in your never-ending nightmares.  
  
Traffic is decent for the hour and you get to the hospital relatively quickly. You find a parking space (the hospital parking lot rates are ridiculous, but, well, it's not like you can't pay them) and make your way to his room.  
  
As soon as you get there, however, you find his bed empty. None of his things (his comforter, the books his sister brought) are there anymore. Everything is clean and ready for a new patient.  
  
Your heart beats hard as you approach the nurse's station.  
  
"Excuse me, could you tell me the whereabouts of Kim Jaejoong?" you ask, managing to keep your nerves from bleeding into your voice. The young woman looks quickly.  
  
"He was discharged this morning," she says. Her words feel like a punch to your stomach. Discharged?   
  
"Thank you," you reply as you walk away.  
  
You grab your phone as soon as you're in your car. It doesn't take long for him to answer.  
  
"Hi, Yunho," you say (you feel strange at the sense of familiarity you have begun to feel with him).   
  
"Hey, Yoochun." You think he sounds at least as nervous as you. "What's up?"  
 _  
_"Did you know Jaejoong was discharged from the hospital today?"  
  
There's a long pause.  
  
"No, I did not," he answers, sounding worried. "Let me call his sister and I'll get back to you."  
  
You will your heart to stop beating painfully as you drive away from the hospital. So many days coming to see him, being near him, and now… He's just gone, you have no idea as to where. Why would the hospital let him go when he's obviously still unwell?  
  
You're arriving home when your cell phone rings.  
  
"Yunho?"  
 _  
_"Yoochun, his sister got him transferred to another place back in his old town, some small hospital…"  
  
His words don't compute at first. She took him away? Even knowing what she knew…   
  
"She took him home?" you ask, somehow managing to keep calm. "She took him back home?"  
  
"That's what she told me," he answers. "She wouldn't say more, though."  
  
You sigh, somehow keeping calm.  
  
"Thanks, man…"  
  
"Will you be okay?" You sigh, somewhat surprised by the question.  
  
"Yeah. See you."  
  
Home feels even emptier today and you hate it. She took him away; she didn't even give you a chance to say goodbye. Your chest hurts, you don't know what to do.  
  
"Fuck!" you shout, sitting on the couch, but it isn't enough. You topple the coffee table, you grab random items—books, decorations—and throw them against the wall and the floor, until they're as broken as you feel. Something breaks against the wall, but you don't care.  
  
It's still not enough; you sit on the sofa, letting your head fall forward.  
  
 _What am I supposed to do now?_ you ask yourself over and over (though you know no one will answer).  
  
  
 **Title: Purpose**  
  
 _"Are you home?"_  
  
You grab another bottle and walk over to the balcony. It feels good to be out there, the cold air the only thing reminding you that you're alive. You take a drag from your cigarette, hold it, exhale. Only days ago, _he_ was standing out here, smoking, chest and arms covered by so many scars you couldn't remember what his body looked like before.  
  
"Sometimes it's too much, sometimes it's just not enough," he said then, voice soft. Now you know what he means, though it's still so hard to understand all the information you have taken upon yourself to read. Does it even matter anymore, though? He's so far away; you don't know when, if ever, you will see him again.  
  
"Yoochun, please open the door."  
  
Work has become your refuge again. This time, however, you feel truly hopeless, there's nothing left for you in this world. All this time, staying alive and sane for him, only for him, and now…  
  
More knocking on your door. You want to scream at them to go away, but you lack the energy for even that. Why can't they leave you be?  
  
You hear the door open.  
  
"Junsu, get the fuck out," you say, your speech slurred (adding to your already pathetic existence, if that's possible).  
  
"Not Junsu," another voice answers. You're surprised when Changmin pushes your feet off the other chair so he can sit on it. "Shit, Yoochun, how much have you had?" You think he'll start picking up the empty bottles (you're reminded of your years together and you have to smile at how some things never change).  
  
"Just a bit," you lie, ignoring all evidence to the contrary. "Not that it isn't nice to see you, but what do you want?"  
  
"For you to snap out of it," he replies at once. "You have everyone worried. Junsu's even talking about moving you up to his apartment-"  
 _  
_"No no no no," you shut him down, putting out your cigarette before you burn someone by accident. "I'm not leaving my home. And this is really none of your business."  
  
He sighs, staring down at the floor. He's trying to be patient, trying to be reasonable, but he's finding it hard, you can tell by his every expression.  
  
"Okay, let's get this straight. According to Hyukjae, Junsu has barely slept, worrying over you being here alone. Add to that the fact Yunho has been calling you every day for the past three weeks or so, and also that I'm worried out of my fucking mind over you and then tell me it's none of our business!" Okay, he's angry. You want to roll your eyes at him, but you know he wouldn't appreciate it.  
  
"What do you want me to do?" you ask. "Can't you just let me get over this?"  
 _  
_"No!" you're taken aback by his anger. "You, Park Yoochun, are an absolute idiot! Do something! Go look for him or… I don't know." He stands up, frustrated. "Just don't lie here letting yourself die. You're not the Yoochun I met, and I hate that. You're better than this."  
  
He starts walking away, toward the door. Fuck.  
  
"Changmin!"  
  
He stops, turning to look at you. He looks like you feel: sad, helpless.  
  
"What?"  
  
You sigh, somehow managing to stand up, and walk back into the room.  
  
"I can't… I can't do this alone," you force the words to come out, otherwise you think you'll explode. Before you know it, you can't see him anymore, his sight distorted by tears upon tears. You hear him sigh and then he's holding you tightly, warm and almost perfect.  
  
"You'll get through this," he promises. "You will."


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: Spin**  
  
"Sir, you wanted to speak to me?"  
  
His summons came suddenly while you were in the middle of a phone call with a client. You were surprised that he wanted you to come to his office, but, ultimately, you knew he had reasons to. You hesitated, though, sat at your desk for minutes on end, staring at nothing, the folders and reports on your computer screen forgotten. It would take only a moment. And it couldn't be that bad. Your boss had always had a soft spot for you, he saw how hard you worked; some of your coworkers were even jealous of the favor he showed you. Surely he just wanted to talk about a project or something.  
  
Despite the awful feeling in your gut, you managed to leave your office and walk up to your boss's door.  
  
"Park Yoochun is here," his secretary said into the phone. At her nod, you walked into his office.  
  
"Yoochun," he greeted you. There wasn't a trace of a smile, no warmth in his gaze. You sat on one of the chairs in front of his desk when he gestured you to and waited, suddenly feeling small and weak.  
  
"You have been taking a lot of days off," he said. You wanted to argue that it wasn't true, but you couldn't. He was right, never mind that you had needed to take those days, there hadn't been any other choice. "On top of that, your performance hasn't been up to what we have come to expect from you."  
  
You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, wondering where he was going with that.  
  
"With all due respect, Sir," you dared to speak when he paused, "Taking those days off hasn't affected my work. None of the studies have been delayed, everything is running as expected, I can show you evidence. I haven't once failed this company." You paused and exhaled, looking for something more to defend yourself with.  
  
He raised his brow, as if surprised that you would be so bold to speak out (the truth and only the fucking truth).  
  
"This is a warning," he said, looking straight at you. "Up until now I have had nothing negative to say about you, but I can't ignore your irresponsible behavior any longer. Good day.”  
  
He focused on the papers on his desk, a clear dismissal. You sat there for a minute, staring at him in disbelief. What were a few days? Your work hadn't been affected; you had made sure of it.   
  
"Yes, Sir," you said, bowing and leaving the office.  
  
Now, sitting at your desk, typing hurriedly, you wonder what you were expecting when you went there. The bastard has worked you to the bone ever since you started working here, forcing you to take on a ridiculous amount of work hours. It's a big company, they could afford to give you a coworker in the same area, but no, you were enough, who cared if you went home dead tired? If you couldn't spend any time with Changmin, your partner back then?  
  
You glare at the computer screen, trying to remain calm, but it's hard, you can barely breathe, you want to scream or smash something. Somehow you manage to refrain, you force yourself to continue typing.  
  
As soon as you're finished, you print the document, four copies. You send out an email to four recipients including yourself; you sign all four sheets above your name typed at the bottom and leave one on your desk. Then you leave your office, stop at your assistant's desk, instructing her to deliver two copies to two specific people, and walk back to your boss's office. You don't wait for his secretary to call, you just let yourself in, much to his surprise. You couldn't care less, though, as you put the signed sheet on his desk.  
  
"My letter of resignation, effective immediately," you inform him. He's speechless. You almost want to hear him beg for you to stay (he knows as well as you do that they'll never find anyone as good as you), but you don't care anymore.  
  
Without a backward glance, you return to your office, empty your briefcase of all work-related things and fill it with the fourth copy and the few things you've kept there (you never really personalized your office, what was the point?). Then you say goodbye to your now former assistant before walking up to the elevator, ignoring your coworkers as you walk past them.  
  
Once out of the building, you take out your cell phone and dial.  
  
"Hey, Yoochun!"  
 _  
_"Hey, Junsu. Guess what? I just quit my job!"  
  
  
 **Title: Perfect**  
  
"I always want to be with you," he said, smiling, chest heaving. He looks so beautiful after sex, his skin flushed and sweaty, brown eyes darker but filled with emotion. You don't doubt that he loves you, not for a second, especially when he kisses you, giving you everything he has.  
  
Now he's asleep, an arm around your waist, a leg tangled with yours. Your bed is small for the two of you, but the way he coils around you like a serpent gives you more than enough space. He looks so peaceful right now, nothing like last night, when he came for you just after midnight and drove to the beach. He pulled you to the backseat almost immediately, but you could tell something was off. Where was the desire in his kiss? Where was that nearly crazy passion?  
  
You had to stop and ask if he was all right.  
  
"I'm fine," he said—insisted—after you looked at him in disbelief. He tried to hide behind a mask of happiness, but he couldn't; he ended up snuggling up to you, looking miserable as he let you hold him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said afterward. But he never told you why he was feeling down.  
  
Today, he waited for you at your usual spot, looking much more awake than you thought he should have (you had barely gotten out of bed after sleeping only three hours), smiling happily at your sight.  
  
It feels strange. A few months ago, you never thought you would be laying in bed with Jaejoong, of all people, a guy, with decidedly guy parts that you're not supposed to like (the thought of just how much you love Jaejoong's body makes you feel hot and tingly all over). He's everything you want: you love his sense of humor and how he ignores the rest of the world; you love his singing, especially when you're in your room or in his car and you're listening to the radio, simply enjoying being together; you love the crazy stories he comes up with.  
  
At the same time… you feel like you don't know him at all, and this kills you. You want to know why he disappears for days, why he gets angry for no reason, and pushes you away. Right now, you wish you knew why he was so sad last night.  
  
His family life seems strange and even terrible, but he refuses to talk about it. He's still a mystery, nearly as much as he was when you first became friends. True, you now know where he lives, you've met some of his family (though not his parents); he occasionally tells you tidbits about his life when you're not together, but they're rarely important.  
  
You sigh, staring at his closed eyes. He's so beautiful, you think he's perfect (though you know it's just an illusion). Is it really so important to know? Perhaps he'll tell you someday, when he's ready. It doesn't mean he doesn't trust you. Ah, you're thinking too much and giving yourself a headache.  
  
Pushing those thoughts away, you set your alarm for at least an hour before your father is supposed to come home (you're terrified of what would happen if he ever found you two in bed together), and close your eyes, holding him closer.  
  


**Title: Peace**  
  
"Will you be all right?"  
  
Your suitcase lays open on your bed, filled with jeans and t-shirts you haven't worn in ages. You have gotten used to wearing suits with ties; it's strange, yet you feel free for the first time in ages.  
  
"I will be," you tell Changmin. He's sitting on your bed, keeping you company while you get ready. He has come over nearly every day the last week or so. Sometimes Yunho comes along if he's not too busy with work. "I already told you, I have enough savings to live on for several-" _  
_  
"That's not what I meant." You glance at him and find him gazing at you worriedly.  
  
You sigh and shrug.  
  
"I don't know," you say honestly and sit on the bed. "I don't know what I'll find. I haven't been home since I left for college. I don't know if I'll even be able to see Jaejoong."  
  
Changmin sighs and sits closer to you. He grabs your hand and holds it tightly.  
  
"You will," he says with conviction. "You have his sister's address. If she loves him, she will tell you where he is and she'll allow you to see him."  
  
You smile wryly at him. You wish you could believe him, but battling against the hope you’re desperately holding on to is the nearly unbearable fear that you will find nothing.  
  
"I wish you'd let me come along," he says. He has offered more than once, but as much you would love to have someone with you (and him, especially), you know you need to do this alone.  
  
"I promise I'll call, okay? You can't interrupt your life because of me." You smile and get up to continue packing.  
  
He watches you in silence as you close the suitcase and zip up your bag. Now you're ready to go. It's not a long drive home, only a few hours away, but you're anxious, apprehensive, and you almost want to put your things back and stay home.  
  
You exhale, turning to Changmin. He has been such an amazing and unexpected source of strength. You never thought you could be more than acquaintances after your breakup, but here you are now, in your bedroom, talking like you have been best friends forever.  
  
"I should get going."  
  
He nods and stands up. You're not surprised when he hugs you tightly; you hug back, trying to convey just how important he is to you, just how amazing he has been. You don't deserve his friendship or his love, but here he is; you could never thank him enough.  
  
"Please take care of yourself," he says, voice nearly a whisper.  
  
"I will, I promise." You let go, looking into his eyes once more. "I'll call you as soon as I get to the hotel."  
  
He nods, grabbing your bag and leading the way out of the apartment. You want to protest, but you end up following him, suitcase in hand. You smile wryly. It never was much use arguing with Changmin.  
  
  
 **Title: Time**  
  
"Finally!"  
  
The bed feels good, oh so wonderful after all those hours on the road. It's midafternoon, and you just want to sleep. You haven't called your friends yet; you need this first, to just stretch on the bed and rest.  
  
You sigh, thinking about your hometown. You haven't been here since you were eighteen. So many memories, both good and bad, stuck to all the places you used to frequent; they hurt, they killed you, and you knew you had to get away or you would end up destroying yourself (funny, you think; isn't that what you've ended up doing anyway?).  
  
Everything looks old, some parts of town seem desolate. This isn't the same place you grew up in; and it makes sense, of course. Now you're a stranger, an outsider; you live in a big city, a world much larger than this. There's no comparison.  
  
Still, you wonder about all the places you used to go to with Jaejoong: the park you went to sometimes when you skipped school; those couple of parking lots he would take you to at ridiculous hours; the ice cream shop where he bought his beloved mint ice cream. They're only memories, though, reminders of the perfect love you knew (how you wish that had never changed). They're not why you're here, though.  
  
"I still have the address from when we lived together," Yunho said, handing you a piece of paper containing an address and a phone number. The place is on the same street where Jaejoong used to live. Are his parents still there? Does anyone still live in that stifling place?  
  
You sigh, reaching for your phone. Who should you call first: thinks-he's-your-mother-Junsu or Changmin?  
  
Changmin answers the phone immediately, makes sure you're all right, and Yunho sends greetings through him. Next, you call Junsu (you should have called him first, but you know him, he would have left you exhausted if you had).  
  
"Yoochun! Finally! I was beginning to get worried." You can just imagine him pacing around, waiting for your phone call. Ah, you owe him so much, he has been there for you for so long. What does it matter if he's ridiculously protective of you sometimes?  
  
"You should rest," he says when you admit you're dead tired.  
  
As soon as you hang up, you fall asleep.  
  


  
You wake up a few hours later. It's dark out, you notice as you reach for your watch, and you realize your father is probably already home from work.  
  
When you call, he sounds tired. He couldn't be in bed already, could he?  
  
"Hi, Dad," you say. He takes a deep breath.  
  
"Yoochun. How are you?" You think he sounds glad to hear you (hopefully he is).  
  
"I'm all right. Uh, I'm in town. Did you eat dinner, yet?"  
 _  
_"You're home?" he sounds surprised. "How come?"  
  
You exhale, staring at the floor.  
  
"Can I come over? I'll bring dinner," you decide to neither lie nor say the truth. You'll do that face to face, if you have to.  
  
"All right."  
  
You stop at a restaurant nearby. Soon enough, you're on your way home, the house you grew up in; the place that saw the bond you and your brother had before your parents decided to go their separate ways. Also the place that witnessed your love for Jaejoong. You sigh, driving onto the street and stopping right in front of your old home. It looks much like it did several years ago, maybe even better. Has your father taken it upon himself to give it adequate maintenance during his free time?  
  
It feels strange to go up to the front door and knock. You're nervous, you don't know what he thinks of your visit, but suddenly you care. Somehow, you know…  
  
The door opens and there he stands, looking as tired as the last time you saw him.   
  
"Come on in," he says, patting your shoulder as you walk past him and to the dining area. He has already set up plates and you dig in right away. You're ravenous, you realize at once; you haven't eaten since you left your apartment, and nerves have been eating at you since then.  
  
"How have you been?" you ask. He shrugs.  
  
"Same as always," he admits. "Work and more work." You expect that answer; he's the type of man who would never tell his sons about his social life, if he has one (and you're sure he must, he did when you were younger and he's still a young, handsome man). "So, what brings you back here?"  
  
You have been wondering if honesty would be best since you decided to come home. What kind of son would you be if you didn't visit your father? Can you lie to him, though?  
  
"Do you remember Kim Jaejoong?" you ask. He glances at you, visibly uncomfortable, but nods. "I'm here to bring him back home with me."  
  
He exhales, staring down at his meal.  
  
"You always had this… special relationship," he says. "You're in love with him, aren't you?"  
  
You're sure you look surprised, but you don't care. Will he disown you, kick you out of the house if you admit it? He has always been so traditional, homosexuals only strange people on TV or among singers and other artists who sought to appeal to girls (a phenomenon you will never understand, to be honest). However, you need to answer and take whatever he says. At this point, you don't really care.  
  
"I am," you answer, looking straight into his eyes. "I don't expect you to understand…"  
  
He shakes his head.  
  
"I've always known," he says. He changes the subject and you don't talk about it again.  
  
  
 **Title: Sting**  
  
"She's a stay-at-home mom," Yunho told you when he gave you her address. "She's rarely out, so you should find her even if you don't call first."  
  
He knew you wouldn't call, why would you? She doesn't want to see you, doesn't want you in her brother's life, she has made that clear enough. Which is exactly why you're standing at her doorstep right now, just after noon, gathering what little strength you have before speaking to her.  
  
You went home late last night. After dinner with your father, you continued talking. He told you about Yoohwan, how you should expect a wedding invitation soon. He came up with more things to talk about, like he didn't want to stop or want you to leave. You were surprised that he didn't once ask about your job; you're glad you didn't have to tell him you quit.  
  
This morning, you had your plan ready: go to Jaejoong's sister's house. Her name is written on the small paper Yunho gave you and that's the only reason you remember. She was never nice to you in the past, her gaze always filled with disapproval.   
  
Now Kim Mikyung lives in a nice little house near her parents' home, with three children and a husband you know nothing about. You wonder about her other sisters, where they are, what they are doing. Do they care about Jaejoong? Have they come to see him?  
  
You sigh. You wish you didn't need to talk to her, that you didn't need her permission to see him. There's no other choice, though, so you force yourself to walk up to her door and knock.  
  
"Who is it?" you hear her voice less than a minute later. You swallow hard.  
  
"Park Yoochun," you reply. The door suddenly bursts open and she glares at you, gaze filled with anger and disbelief.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asks, voice rising. "He doesn't want to see you!"  
  
"Nuna," you say, managing to keep your voice down (while you wonder if her words are true; it hurts to even think about). "I just want to talk to you. Please."  
  
She exhales, as if willing herself to calm down. She doesn't look any different than the last time you saw her, dressed impeccably in a blouse and skirt, long hair in a neat ponytail, now wearing house slippers.  
  
Finally, she sighs.  
  
"All right, come in."  
 _  
_"Tea?" she offers and you accept. She tells you to sit in the small living room. The room is so neat, the window open to let light and air in. It’s unsettling, for some reason. What did you expect? Mountains of books and magazines like in her parents' home?  
  
She comes back faster than you expect, holding a tray. She serves the tea and hands you a cup. You thank her, wondering how to start the conversation. She doesn't look at you. Is she nervous?  
  
"You're here to talk about my brother," she says abruptly. "So, talk."  
  
She catches you off guard, but you suppose it's better than this awkward silence.  
  
"I want to see him," you say, straight to the point. "And I want to take him back with me."  
  
She shakes her head.  
  
"What good will it do for him to see you?" her words stab you deeply. "And definitely not! He needs help and being in a hospital is the best thing for him."  
  
"You really believe that? Do you really think that keeping him locked up will do him good? Do you even know Jaejoong anymore?"  
  
"I know he's done some really insane things that never should have happened," she replies. "If he had stayed in treatment, everything would be fine. And finding you again has obviously been no help."  
  
You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to remain calm.  
  
"He has never been very forthcoming," you tell her. "He has always done his best to skirt around important issues, and I don't mean just now. It was the same when we were in school. How could I help him if he wouldn't let me?"  
  
She sighs. Does she hear the desperation in your voice?  
  
"He hated the pills, hated the side effects. He and Yunho…" She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "When they were still together, Jaejoong said they hadn't… been intimate in months because he just had no desire to. But Yunho told me my brother had been staying with you occasionally after they broke up."  
  
Your face heating at what she's implying. It's really none of her business, but, well, under the circumstances… Damn it.  
  
"I can only reach one conclusion: he stopped treatment because of you." She glares at you. You exhale, trying to swallow down your anger and frustration.  
  
"Look, I just want to see him. Can't you give me that, at least?" You're not above begging. You miss him awfully; you need to see him now. "I love him, I swear to you. I never even understood what was happening to him until Yunho told me."  
  
She closes her eyes before looking at you again. She looks so tired (all because of Jaejoong?).  
  
"He needs constant care," she says softly. "When he was younger… Let's just say I've been through this more than once, okay? He always did insane things. He brought boys home while our parents weren't in. He would sneak out, come back drunk or drugged, and those boys, the things my sisters and I would hear." She frowns. "When he first brought you home, we all thought you were just another one of his boyfriends, but no, he actually cared about you. And he started changing again."  
  
You furrow your brow in confusion. What is she talking about?  
  
"So, you're saying he changed for the better?" you ask.  
  
"Somewhat." She exhales. "His health has deteriorated since he has been with you now, though, at least as far as I can tell. I don't want you near him."  
  
You feel tears prickling behind your eyes. You need to see him, you need to know he's fine.  
  
"Nuna, please." You hate it when tears fill your eyes. "What harm can it do? He can't leave the hospital, right? I'll be in town just a few days-"  
 _  
_"I want you out of his life." Her words cut deep into you. You close your eyes, your heart breaking.  
  
"Allow me to visit him, just a few days," you say. "And then, I'll… go away." It kills you to think of disappearing from his life, but what else can you offer right now?  
  
She looks up at your words.  
  
"I'm holding you to that," she says, meeting your gaze. She stands up and grabs a small notebook, writing quickly. As soon as she's finished, she carefully rips the page out and hands it to you. "I'll call and give you access. And I won't forget what you just promised."  
  
You nod, relief briefly overpowering the grief you've brought upon yourself. You take your leave, thanking her for the tea, and drive away from her house.  
  
"Better not think right now," you tell yourself, palming the sheet of paper inside your shirt pocket.  
  


**Title: Rejection**  
  
 _"You have a visitor."_  
  
The hospital is a small psychiatric clinic not too far away from downtown. There were always rumors around it, about it being a place where the insane were left to die in the hands of sadistic doctors. The place used to make you shiver.  
  
Looking at it now, though, it looks like any other small clinic you've seen in the city. Once you go inside, there's a desk and a pleasant nurse speaks to you.  
  
"Oh, yes. His sister said you were coming," she says after checking a notebook. "This way."

You do your best to refrain from asking questions as she leads you, but then, you find out, you don't have to.  
  
"He hasn't spoken a word since he was brought here," she says, leading you through a corridor and past several doors. "We all try to get him to talk, but he refuses to."  
  
You frown. He's exactly the same as he was when Mikyung decided to take him away. How is this progress?  
  
Your heart beats faster when you arrive at a door and the nurse opens it, letting you inside after her. The small room only has one bed, and it has a small TV; it looks impeccably clean and neat. You breathe a sigh of relief: you had been imagining the worst.  
  
Your breath hitches when you catch sight of him: he's lying in bed, his back to the door, buried under several blankets. The room isn't cold; then again, you don't live there. He doesn't react when she speaks, nor when she closes the door after herself. You're left there, standing near the door, wondering how to start.  
  
 _"Hyung."_ He jumps slightly; you think (hope) that he'll turn to look at you, but he doesn't.  
  
You sigh, moving around the bed, wanting to see his face. He looks so tired, so pale, though not as pale as the last time you saw him. He looks slightly better, just…  
  
You sit on the chair next to the bed. You can tell he's doing his best not to look at you, and you know you deserve his silence, but it doesn't hurt any less.  
  
"I…" You don't know where to begin. "I'm sorry I didn't come before." It's all you can say right now, you find. Any other words you have been thinking about for days won't come out. Almost on impulse, you pull the chair closer to the bed.  
  
"How have you been?" you ask. He doesn't flinch when you touch his face with the back of your hand, just a gentle caress (because you need him, you need to feel him close). "The nurse said you… She said you're doing well."  
  
He still doesn't react.  
  
You sit there for minutes on end, just watching him. He moves once, turns around so that you're not facing each other. You want to shake him, to tell him to snap out of it, but you don't; you can't.  
  
Finally, you decide it's time to leave. You kiss his hair and walk away, tears spilling before you're even outside. Once in your car, you feel more alone than ever. Before the thoughts can pull you further down, however, you grab your cell phone and dial a number. It's not long until he answers; you sigh in relief.  
  
"Hey, Yunho. Are you busy?"  
  


**Title: Listen**  
  
"I quit my job just before coming back home."  
  
He's quiet, but you go on, like you have the past few days. You've come by every day since the first time. Some of the nurses regard you curiously, but you ignore them, even when they come into the room while you're talking.  
  
"My boss looked so shocked. He even called me, believe it or not, said I couldn't just leave with everything going on." You laugh, derisively. "I know my rights. And, honestly, I don’t really give a fuck."  
  
You smile at him even though he doesn't spare you a glance.  
  
"The others send their love, by the way, Junsu and Hyukjae, and Changmin." You pause before uttering perhaps the most important name. "Yunho."  
  
You hoped his name would make him react; it doesn't. Sometimes he closes his eyes and pretends you aren't there. He's eating, though, the nurse always asks you to leave the room while she feeds him, but one time you see him sit up and eat by himself, moving slowly, but following her instructions. That memory is what keeps you from becoming hopeless. He's getting better, you've seen it yourself.  
  
"Yunho and I… We've become good friends," you tell him one afternoon. "He and Changmin have a good thing going, I think. Yunho's even trying to quit smoking." You laugh softly. "I never could, no matter how much I wanted to." You frown. Does that mean you didn't love Changmin enough? You push the thought away.  
  
"Do you want me to bring you something? Anything? The nurse said I can bring you a snack, if you want," you insist.  
  
Some days he watches TV and you're reminded of the days he spent at the hospital after his suicide attempt. It's like he's trying to forget, make himself so numb he won’t feel pain, despair, or even joy, ever again. It's beginning to drive you insane, though, no matter how hard you try to suppress it.  
  
"Please talk to me," you say, unable to hold back tears. "Hyung, I'll do anything, please."  
  
As always, he’s silent and motionless. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.  
  
"Look, I came here to bring you back home with me," you admit. You made a promise to his sister, but he could change everything. The day you need to go back home approaches and you can barely breathe. "I love you. I want to be here for you. Yes, I know I fucked up, but we both have. Don't I deserve another chance?"  
  
You wait, but his silence is all the answer you need.  
  
  
 **Title: Mine**  
  
"You need to stop watching that shit."  
  
He grabs at the remote but you stop him, keeping the plastic device close to you. It isn't your fault he decided to stay with you on a Wednesday, the day your favorite drama is on. Your father won't be home until late and he said okay when you called him to ask if Jaejoong could stay over. He didn't sound pleased about it, but he has accepted that Jaejoong is a part of your life, whether he likes it or not.  
  
Right now, however, you're deeply regretting it.  
  
"Shut up, Hyung. Eat or something," you reply, passing a bag of chips to him. The main character is about to be found out as a fraud and everything leading up to it makes you jittery and excited. It's the episode you've been waiting for all week and no way you're letting your boyfriend ruin it for you.  
  
To your left, Jaejoong groans in frustration, but soon seems to become resigned. It's only twenty more minutes. God, can't he just wait?  
  
Five minutes haven't gone by when he speaks again.  
  
"Who's that guy?"  
  
You glance at him suspiciously. He listens as you explain the main plot as best as you can; even if your attention is not wholly on the drama, this is still better than having him complain.  
  
When it ends, you can't help but be disappointed. All that building up to end the episode right when the main character has been discovered. You sigh at the thought of having to wait another week, but you just turn the TV off and turn to Jaejoong—only then you realize he's watching you.  
  
"What?"  
  
He grins, regarding you curiously.  
  
"I never thought I'd end up with such a girly guy," he says. You're immediately affronted.  
  
"Fuck you!" You grab a pillow and throw it at him. He deflects it and gets up, running off to your bedroom while laughing maniacally. You go after him without a moment's thought and tackle him just before he can grab one of your pillows.  
  
"Ow!" he complains (you know he's just being dramatic). "Get off me!" But he laughs.  
  
"Take it back," you demand, keeping him still under you, his face against the mattress.  
  
"Oh, come on, you know it's true," he teases further. You scoff and straddle his legs, raising yourself just enough so he can roll onto his back. Then he's staring at you from beneath, dark eyes shining.  
  
"What?" you ask again, this time softly, curiosity getting the best of you. He only shakes his head (though you can see there's something more in his mind).  
  
"How long until your Dad comes home?" he asks instead. You sigh, giving up.  
  
"At least two hours," and you lean down to kiss him, knowing this is a battle you won't win (because you won't fight back).  
  


**Title: Awake**  
  
"I need to get back home soon."  
  
You stayed away from the hospital for two days. It felt like your body shut down and you couldn't get out of bed. You barely ate, except for some simple snacks. Otherwise, you were so tired; you slept and slept, until you couldn't anymore.   
  
Today, you showered and drove down to a small restaurant near the hospital. You ate breakfast, all the time wondering what to do. Should you go back to the hospital and insist? Or should you just head back home and forget?  
  
You made a decision long before leaving the restaurant. You knew you wouldn't be able to simply leave, drive away without looking back. Once at the hospital, you went to his room. He was watching TV, the volume off. A few seconds later, you heard a sigh and then the device was off. Your heart skipped a beat as you closed the door. When you approached the bed, though, he pretended to be asleep.  
  
Now you're sitting in the uncomfortable chair, watching him. He's not asleep, you can tell, but he can act so well when he wants to.

  
"I need to get back home soon."

You bite your lower lip after speaking. He doesn't react to the words; it hurts that whether you're here or not doesn't matter to him. You probably deserve it. You suppress a wave of distress, taking a deep breath.  
  
"I promised your sister I'll leave and get out of your life. I thought that wasn't really my decision to make." You shrug. "I'll miss you."  
  
Like before, he's silent, and you finally give up all hope. You need to go home, sort out your life, decide what you're going to do. Jaejoong doesn't want anything from you and it kills you. What else can you do, though?  
  
You let out a shaky breath as you walk up to him, stroking his hair, his face. So many years in love with him, thinking about him, a love never forgotten no matter who else was in your life. Will you ever see him again? The mere thought makes you feel like you're dying; you lean down to hold him, wanting to feel him close at least once…  
  
Suddenly, he moves and you open your eyes. You can feel a hand clawing at your shirt, nearly hurting the skin beneath. His grip is weak, but it's there; he lets out a shaky breath, lips close to your ear.  
  
"Don't give up on me," he whispers. "Please."


	18. Chapter 18

**Title: Arrow**  
  
 _"Take me away from here."_  
  
His lips are chapped and dry, but still, you kiss him softly, brush long bangs off his forehead. His hair is longer now; it reminds you of when you were in school. Teachers always threatened to expel him if he didn't conform to the dress code, but he ignored them. Jaejoong never cared. Just like he never has about anything else.   
  
Until now?  
  
Today, he was awake when you came in to see him. He didn't pretend you weren't there; instead, he smiled at you (or tried to, at least). Throughout the day, he has barely spoken, mainly answering your questions or letting you know he's listening to whatever you're talking about. It seems like all you do is ramble, but you're too happy to care right now. Two days after he first spoke to you, he's awake, alive, out of the hole he had been trapped in.  
  
Just as visiting hours are ending, he speaks softly, meeting your gaze.  
  
"Take me away from here."  
  
Your heart skips a beat. He wants to leave the hospital? With you? It’s what you have been hoping for and yet…  
  
You swallow thickly.  
  
"Your sister wants me out of your life," you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. "I want to take you home with me, but I can't."  
  
To your surprise, he frowns angrily and moves to push on a button, calling for a nurse. She comes in quickly and glances at both of you.  
  
"I want to see my doctor," he says, voice just above a whisper. She looks shocked—has he not spoken to anyone else?—but nods and leaves the room. Then he turns back to you. "Stay. Listen."   
  
You nod, wondering what he's up to.  
  
The minute the doctor comes into the room, you find out.  
  
"I want out of here," he demands, his voice slightly stronger, louder. "You can't keep me in here, can you?"  
  
The doctor exhales.  
  
"Not until we determine you aren't a danger to yourself anymore."   
  
Jaejoong's dark eyes glint with anger.  
  
"I'm not a danger to myself anymore," he says. "I want to leave."   
  
You sigh, wishing you could believe him. But then something occurs to you.  
  
"What if someone agrees to take care of him? Makes sure he takes his medication, that he eats, that he isn't alone?" you ask. "I will find him a doctor in the city, too."   
  
The doctor stares at you and you just know he's about to ask who you are, but Jaejoong beats you to it.  
  
"He's my real family," he says. Your breath hitches as he holds your hand tightly and looks into your eyes. "I want to go with you."   
  
  
**Title: Home**  
  
"If something happens to him, I will hold you responsible," she said as you helped him get dressed. Some of your clothes fit him, so you brought a change for him the day he was discharged. Unsurprisingly, his sister was there, trying to convince her brother not to leave the hospital.  
  
"Leave Yoochun alone," he said. You only ignored her, instead wondering if he was strong enough to walk out. "Go back to your nice little life and keep pretending I don't exist, just like you always have."  
  
He didn't care when her eyes filled with tears, nor when she insisted she just wanted him to be healthy. No, he slid his arm around your neck and held on, pushing you to hurry away from the room and out of the hospital.  
  
Once in your car, he smiled at you. You're sure your relief showed in your face, how could it not? How many days had you been there, hoping? And finally, he was with you.  
  
"Are you hungry?" you ask now, hours later, sitting next to him. He's lying on the bed watching TV, has been since you brought him to the hotel. You didn't expect him to just change once he was out of the hospital; after all, you can see just how tired he feels, the bags under his eyes attest to that. No, he just takes his medication when you remind him, and now you're hoping he'll eat at your urging. "I'll get you anything you want."   
  
He glances at you, eyes bright. He reaches out to you and you take his hand, letting him pull you to him.  
  
"Later," he says softly. "Just stay with me for now."   
  
You sigh, lying behind him and holding him close. You still can't believe he's here with you; you can touch him, kiss him, hear him—even if his voice is still hoarse—just be with him. Sometimes you remember him in the tub, red water surrounding him. God, you don’t think you could go through that again, your heart beats painfully at the thought of losing him. You hold him tighter, begging for the pain in your chest to subside.  
  
"What is it?" he asks, sounding confused (concerned?). Can he even understand what he means to you? What it means to have him back? It doesn't really matter if he does, though.  
  
"I love you," you whisper against his hair. "I've missed you so much."  
  
He puts his hand over yours, holding it close to his chest.  
  
  
 **Title: Isolation**  
  
"Be right back," you say, opening the door. He only makes a small sound in response. You sigh, walking out of the room.  
  
It doesn't really matter, you think as you go down the stairs and to the lobby. He's with you, he's alive, he's speaking and eating (even if he won't eat as much as he should). You have more than you did even a week ago. Then why do you feel so empty?  
  
You sit in the front seat of your car and turn on the air conditioning. The room upstairs was feeling stifling already, you aren't sure why. You should go back to the city soon. So many things you need to do.  
  
So, what to do now? You consider going for a drive around town, but you don't want to be away from Jaejoong for too long.  
  
Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone rings. Your heart beats fast and you clutch at your chest as you pick it up and look at the caller I.D.  
  
"Yunho," you say, sounding relieved. The two of you haven't spoken since you called to tell him Jaejoong was out of the hospital. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine." He sounds like it, too, happy and calm. For a moment, you envy him that. "How are you? And Jaejoong?"  
  
You sigh, wishing you could just lie. However, if you can't speak honestly with him…  
  
"Could be better," you admit. "Jaejoong, he… He's all right, just very tired. He spends the entire day watching TV. He won't eat much." You know you sound frustrated, but you can't hide it. "I want to bring him home."  
  
"Then bring him home," Yunho says, sounding worried. "What are you waiting for?"  
  
You close your eyes. Two days have passed since he left the hospital and you just can't bring yourself to pick up your things and bring him back to the city, to your home, where he can get the care he needs until he's well enough. Something keeps you there, though—fear, maybe?  
  
"I don't know," you admit. You run your hand through your hair, hating that you feel so out of sorts right now, when you most need to be strong. How can you take care of Jaejoong while wallowing in self-doubt and this almost irrational fear?  
  
"Yoochun…" Yunho sighs. If only you could be as strong as he is, so confident; he always acts like he knows exactly what he's doing and he looks like he type of man who would go at anything life threw at him, no matter how challenging. The more you know him, the more you understand why Changmin is attracted to him. Yunho is anything but a coward (he's nothing like you). "I told you it wouldn't be easy," he says. "You yourself knew this. Right now, all you can do is be there for him. He won't just snap out of it. He's probably fighting to regain some sense of normalcy right now."  
  
Yes, but could he? With you?  
  
"I know," you say (though you don't, not really). "I just… I feel helpless. I need to do something!"   
  
"Just be there for him," he repeats. "Trust me."   
  
You sigh and change the topic.  
  
"How is Changmin?" You haven't spoken to him in a couple of days. You feel like such an ingrate, after all he has done for you.  
  
"He's fine. Would you like to talk to him? He's here."  
  
"Tell him I'll call him later? I don't want to leave Jaejoong alone for too long."  
  
"All right."  
  
You hang up soon enough. You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed suddenly.  
  
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," you tell yourself. "Yunho warned you, you knew what you were getting into."  
  
It's all you can do: try to convince yourself that you can deal with anything that happens, that you can be strong like Jaejoong needs you to be. It seems to work somewhat; the pressure in your chest eases a bit.   
  
Nevertheless, over an hour passes before you finally go back.  
  
  
 **Title: Complicated**  
  
"Come on!" he whispers, grabbing your hand and effectively pulling you away from your next class. Hopefully, the teacher won't notice you're gone—you refuse to fight him today. You're feeling tired and miserable, and going against one Kim Jaejoong will only pull you further down.  
  
You spent the weekend at your mother's for the first time in over a year. It seemed like the best opportunity to become closer to your brother and be with your mother (because you miss them so much it hurts). Much to your disappointment, Yoohwan refused to stay in the house while you were there, choosing to spend the weekend with a friend. Your mother tried to stay around, but she was gone as soon as work called for an extra shift (she needs the money, it's that simple). The weekend passed in a blur of silence and loneliness, lying in bed all day, unable to reach your boyfriend (not that he would have cheered you up, as silent as he has been lately). You didn't feel like eating or watching TV. No, it was easier to close your eyes and pretend you were anywhere but there.   
  
Once back at school, you were greeted by an overexcited Jaejoong.  
  
"I missed you!" he said, putting his arm around your shoulders and holding you close. "How was the weekend at mom's?"   
  
You tried to tell him the truth, but you ended up giving him a smile and saying it had been perfect. He didn't believe you, you could tell right away, but you weren't about to confirm his suspicions. Instead, you asked after his weekend.  
  
"It was all right," he said. There was something about the way he said it, how he looked away as he spoke. Had the past couple of days been as miserable for him as they had been for you?  
  
"I don't want to get in trouble," you say now.  
  
"You won't," he assures you (like he always does).  
  
You don't know where he's leading you, but you follow despite your half-hearted protests. Soon enough he opens the door to an empty classroom and locks the door. He grins at you, dropping his book bag on the floor.  
  
"Finally."   
  
He pushes you against a wall and kisses you hard, almost desperately. You can't help but be surprised: he has been so distant lately, pushing you away until you have felt cold and abandoned. It feels like it’s been days and days since he last touched you like this. _Why?_ you wonder. It's like he turns a switch on and off. More than once you have wondered if maybe he has grown bored of you, maybe he doesn't love you anymore, but then he comes at you like this and he pours so much emotion into every kiss and touch, you end up forgetting all about it.  
  
You hold on to him and kiss him with as much fervor. You moan into his mouth when his hands travel down your body, down to your waist and your ass, pulling you flush against him. He's already hard, you can feel him through your clothes; you reach out to touch him, but he stops you.  
  
"No," he says, pulling away from you, suddenly. You gaze at him, chest heaving. The distance hurts and you wonder what he's doing, but then he kneels before you, hands deftly undoing the front of your trousers. The sight nearly undoes you; you gasp, feeling breathless as he pulls your underwear down just enough to bare your hard member. And then his mouth is on you, hot and wet and wonderful. You force your eyes open, watching as your cock disappears into his mouth. How long has it been?  
  
Climax comes abruptly; you bite your lip as each wave of pleasure hits you mercilessly until you're left gasping for air. You feel as he tucks you back in, zips you up, and then his lips are back on yours, now softer, gentler.  
  
He pulls away and looks into your eyes.  
  
"We better get to class," he says. You look at him, confused.  
  
"But, what about-"  
  
"Let's go."   
  
He shoulders his bookbag again and opens the door, looking out for any teachers in the corridors. You follow, knowing that asking won't bring any answers.  
  
  
 **Title: Keeps**  
  
 _"I told you it wouldn't be easy."_  
  
Yunho's words run around in your mind that night as you lie next to Jaejoong. He fell asleep around nine at night. Now it's two in the morning, but you're still wide awake, watching him (as you have done the past couple of days). Looking at him now, you're reminded of those months before he tried to take his own life. He would fall asleep next to you so easily, put his arm around you and he would sigh happily before giving in to exhaustion. You felt so conflicted then. Jaejoong came in and out of your life as he pleased, but you never stopped thinking about him nor did you stop hoping he would come to you every night.  
  
Months later, there are still so many questions left unanswered: about the past, about his health. You still can't believe that he had attempted suicide just before he abandoned you the first time; the thought still hurts, even if he's next to you right now, alive. Is his illness the only thing to blame, though? You think about his sister, how she was willing to keep him locked up in the hospital, probably for the rest of his life. You doubt she ever intended to take care of him like he needed, just like her family obviously never did. Did they ever make an effort to understand him? Did they ever get him proper treatment?  
  
You sigh, lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling. All right, you need to get back home as soon as you can, get him to a doctor. You need to make him feel comfortable, completely at home. Could going back there be counterproductive, though? Will he remember it as the place where he last gave up on life?  
  
 _It will be fine_ , you tell yourself.  
  
You need to go job hunting as soon as possible, too. Now that his wellbeing is in your hands, you can't just wait until you've drained your life savings. You don't even know how long it will take for him to be able to return to work, or if he ever will be well enough to do so. If it were up to you, he wouldn't ever have to. Maybe you can manage that without killing yourself working.  
  
However, one question remains in your mind: will he leave again as soon as he can? He could have stayed with you in the past… Wait, no, he was already with Yunho when he found you right before you met Changmin. The thought upset you when you found out, no matter how ridiculous it felt—so many years had passed already. This last time, Jaejoong chose to just keep coming and going, until you abandoned him… when he most needed you. You're still kicking yourself for that. He called so insistently, you should have at least listened, but no, you chose to wallow in self-pity. Idiot.  
  
Ugh, why are you even focusing on the past? Only the now and the future should matter.   
  
_"Right now, all you can do is be there for him."_  
  
Yunho is right, he more than anyone knows this. He gave years to Jaejoong, only he knows what it's like. You know that you'll have to rely on him sometimes, and a part of you hates that; the rest of you is just relieved that you have _someone_ you can turn to. Despite everything you’d hoped for, you're at a loss. It hurts to watch Jaejoong be like this, so different from his usual self.  
  
 _"He's probably fighting to regain some sense of normalcy right now."_  
  
When Yunho told you this, your mind couldn't process it fully. Now that you have so much time to think, you finally realize all the things those words imply.  
  
 _I need to be patient_ , you think to yourself. _Let him go at his own pace. Don't smother him with unwanted attention._ Jaejoong never liked being coddled. _Everything will work out fine._   
  
You put your arm around his waist and hold him close, hoping for the best. Adopting any other attitude will be stupid and you promised yourself you wouldn't fuck this up. No, you just need to take this one day at a time.  
  
You close your eyes, hoping sleep will come soon.  
  
  
 **Title: Words**  
  
"It hasn't changed all that much, has it?"   
  
You're sitting on the sand, watching the sunset. This is _your_ beach, the one you used to sneak out to late at night whenever Jaejoong got the urge. It's just as beautiful and peaceful as you remember.  
  
Today he woke up in better spirits. He ate breakfast and showered early. The TV didn't hold much interest for him—he spent most of the day talking to you, jumping from topic to topic. It was a welcome change from the constant silence and the sound of the TV in the background. You missed hearing his voice and today you got your wish.  
  
You were in the middle of organizing your clothes, getting things ready to leave tomorrow, when you realized he was watching you intently. It was easy to recognize the way he was looking at you, you have seen it so many times throughout the years, mostly back when you were still in school and he wanted something.  
  
"Let's go to the beach," he said. It wasn't a question or a suggestion: it was a command. You stared at him, surprised. How many years had it been since the last time you had gone to that spot on the beach where you had spent so many nights together?  
  
You blinked a few times, folding a shirt and putting it in your suitcase.  
  
"All right."   
  
He was quiet during the drive there, staring out the window. The scenery is different during the day—you went there mostly at night when few people would notice a couple of kids driving a nearly rundown car, so the sight was almost fascinating. Once at your old spot, he got out of the car, gaze fixed on the horizon, until you came up to him. He grabbed your hand and led you closer to shore, asking you to sit with him.  
  
Only minutes later, you're still there, sitting quietly. You watch as the wind plays with his hair, at the way he just seems to be staring at nothing. What is he thinking about? You sigh and look away. This little trip doesn't have to mean anything. So you're back to a place that marked you forever. Is it the same for him?  
  
You choose to follow his lead, staring at the sky as the sun goes down.  
  
"This is where I first kissed you," he says suddenly, smiling slightly. "Right over there." He points at the water. "You were shivering so badly your jaw was trembling." He glances at you. "Do you remember?"   
  
You smile.  
  
"Of course I remember." The memory is still so clear in your mind: his heart beating against yours, his lips pressed to yours in a deep kiss. "I still remember everything about that night like it was yesterday."   
  
He looks away, still smiling.  
  
"I had this huge crush on you back then. I think I loved you already." He hums in thought (while your heart beats fast, just like that night). "I didn't even think about the consequences. What if you punched me? You were such a little asshole back then, talking back all the time."  
  
"Hey!" you protest. "Like you were any better. Do you know how weird it is to have someone follow you home and accost you until you pay attention to him?"   
  
He grins at you, eyes bright with amusement, but then the light fades just as fast. He stares down at the sand.  
  
"I wasn't all right back then. To tell you the truth, I don't know why I did it. I just noticed you one day and decided I wanted to talk to you." He shrugs. "But then, most of the things I've done since I was a kid have been like that: impulsive, thoughtless." He sighs, gazing at the horizon again.  
  
You frown in thought. Is now the right time to ask questions? Or should you just let him speak as he will? You haven't exchanged so many words in such a long time, though. He seems less tired right now, more eager.  
  
"Your sister said some things the few times we spoke," you start, unable to keep quiet. "She said… you did this before."   
  
He snorts, looking almost angry.  
  
"I can imagine all the things she told you. And most are probably true." Jaejoong looks into your eyes. "I attempted suicide when I was fourteen. I spent, I don't know, two weeks in a hospital. And then I was sent home. My parents' response was to take the lock out of my door so that they could keep me under constant supervision. Idiots." He snorts derisively. "So I started sneaking out, sometimes for days at a time."  
 _  
_"Oh." You don't know what to say to that. Didn't his room have a lock the times you went to his house?  
  
"You see," he goes on, "I was like the family secret. I heard things and saw things that weren't there. Every time I got desperate, they refused to help, they kept me shut in the house unless there was no other choice. I tried to hide it when it got bad, but, really, what can a fourteen-year-old in that environment do? I didn't want to die just because, though. I was depressed and feeling hopeless and I couldn't get out of bed. My mother would call me lazy, stupid, a disgrace. I believed all of it, so I fell even further. And then she said it."   
  
He takes a handful of sand, crushing it in his hand.  
  
"What did she say?" you ask softly after a minute.  
  
"I'm not her son. Only my father's." He lets go of the sand, staring down as the tiny grains fall from his hand. "Apparently, I'm the product of an affair he had with some woman I've never met." He shrugs. "It undid me. Everything I'd thought to be true came crashing down around me. And I had nothing and no one to hang on to."   
  
You close your eyes, sighing, sliding your arm around his shoulders. He slumps against you, his head on your shoulder.  
  
"I hate them," he whispers. "Just like they hated me."  
  
Neither of you says anything as the sky darkens around you. You don't want to leave yet, though. It feels so amazing to be here with him again, no matter the circumstances. He sighs as you kiss his forehead. You feel the need to protect him; how you wish you could take all those bad memories away. _But then he wouldn't be your Jaejoong_ , you think, selfishly.  
  
"I met my first boyfriend around that time." You tense somewhat. Do you want to hear about this? "He was a college dropout and he hung around a twenty-four-hour convenience store with his friends. I saw him every time I snuck out. He stood out, I don't know why. And then one night, he called me over." You can almost see the smile on his lips right now. "He was the first person I ever felt really loved me. He brought me home, took care of me. I didn't even care he was in his twenties. After we broke up, he still came to see me sometimes when he knew my parents weren't home."  
 _  
_"Did you love him?" The question falls from your lips unbidden.  
  
He shrugs against you.  
  
"Maybe," he says. "I was… not quite there, if you know what I mean. He's the reason I started drinking, he always gave me stuff. Still, in a way, he saved my life. Just like you did."  
 _  
_"Me?" You snort in disbelief. And the guy gave him alcohol? Never mind that, what was a twenty-something guy doing with a fourteen-year-old? "Hyung, that sounds kind of messed up."  
  
Jaejoong straightens up and gives you a look.  
  
"No kidding," he mocks. You have to grin—he suddenly seems like his usual self. "That's not the point. If he hadn't been there for me during that time, I would have tried to off myself again. And if you hadn't come into my life when you did, I wouldn't be here."   
  
His statement makes you frown.  
  
"You still tried," you say accusingly. He exhales, closing his eyes.  
  
"Yoochun, I… Look, it isn't that simple. I had lost control completely. I didn't even know what I was doing." He shakes his head. "You have no idea how many crazy things I did. I even used to bring boys home just because I knew my sisters hated it, they were so disgusted. Even during that time, just before I left…" He looks away guiltily. Oh. Is he saying what you think he is?  
  
"What do you mean by that?" Your heart beats faster in fear (no matter how often you tell yourself that it doesn't matter, that it's all in the past).  
  
Jaejoong rolls his eyes impatiently.  
  
"You know what I mean! I cheated on you." He seems to feel so guilty, but you still pull away. "There were a couple of boys at school. A few times, when I didn't come to class after lunch…"  
  


"Hyung, just stop. Please." Doesn't he understand that you don't want to know about his sexual escapades?  
  
"I didn't mean to, I swear. Most times… it felt as though I wasn't me, like I was outside myself, and I just did it. I didn't plan on it, I swear."  
  
You take a deep breath, then exhale.  
  
"It's all right," you say (though you're not sure you mean it). "It doesn't matter anymore, it happened years ago." He looks relieved suddenly. "So, that was during the months right before you left?"  
  
He nods.  
  
"I began to push you away. I didn't want to, but I couldn't help myself. I did everything I could to make you angry, I had this awful urge to hurt you." He runs a hand through his wind tousled hair, lips a hard line. "I did it to Yunho, too. Everyone I've ever cared about. Except you two never gave up on me."  
 _  
_"I did," you admit. "This last time, I just wanted you out of my life." A flash of hurt crosses his face. God, he doesn't deserve it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." However, he only shakes his head.  
  
"No, it's fine. I know you did, and I know why you did it. I would have dumped my sorry ass, too." He gives you an apologetic half smile. "I've treated you so horribly."  
  
For some reason, you hate that he's so lucid and rational. Have the two of you ever had a conversation like this before? He looks so tired now, though, so sad. Maybe it's time to go back to the hotel. You're about to suggest just that when he next opens his mouth.  
  
"Thing is, my parents were putting a lot of pressure on me, about school, my behavior, even you." He stares at the sky once again; you watch him, admiring him, like you always have. "I don't even know how it happened. One night after a fight, I just did it. I slit my wrists and waited to die. My parents found me. After that, I knew I had to leave." Jaejoong gazes into your eyes. "I thought it would be better for you, too. You wouldn't have to deal with me anymore."   
  
You bite your lower lip, looking right back at him. No matter what he tells you, you don't think you'll ever understand him nor what he's going through. You can only be patient, you think as you grab his hand.  
  
"Not knowing where you were was worse," you admit. He furrows his brow, looking so sad. No, you don't want him to hurt anymore. "That was so long ago, though. I think I've gotten over it somewhat." It still hurts, but what does it matter when he's sitting right next to you right now? "Can't we start over?" you suggest, brushing dark bangs out of his face. "A new beginning for us?"  
  
He gives you a radiant smile, the tiredness in his eyes dissipating, and he presses his lips to yours.  
  
"A new beginning," he agrees. You're unable to hide a smile as he leans his head on your shoulder, and together you watch as the sun finally sets.


	19. Chapter 19

**Title: Stolen**  
  
"It's so funny!" and she laughs so everyone nearby hears.  
  
She's smiling happily while talking with _him_ , the guy who stole her from you. You're not jealous (or so you tell yourself), she's nothing but a memory right now. Which really makes you wonder: why the hell are you standing there watching them?   
  
You frown, looking away and making your way out of school. You thought you would be over it by now, but, really, it has only been about a week since she broke up with you and she already has a new boyfriend?! She could have at least waited a couple of weeks. But no, now your classmates look at you with pity. Fuck them! What the hell do they know?  
  
It's time to go home, anyway.  
  
You stare at the ground as you walk, trying to get her image and the sound of her voice out of your head. Why must she still affect you so much? _Because you thought it was more than just puppy love. Idiot_ , you think to yourself. You wish there was something to kick at, release your frustrations on, but no, there's nothing. How are you supposed to forget when they parade their relationship in front of you every damn day? _Forget about it_ , you tell yourself, trying to focus on the things you need to do when you get home.  
  
Not a minute later, you feel someone walking behind you. You don't doubt it could be a random schoolmate, except the last two days have been beyond strange and you fear… Shit. He's following you _again_! Has your refusal to acknowledge him the past two days done nothing to convince him that you want him to stay away from you? Maybe he _is_ crazy, like people at school say, the more reason why you don't want him anywhere near you. So he gave you a cigarette once. That doesn’t automatically make you friends!  
  
You shake your head and continue walking, doing your best to ignore him. This is the last thing you need: a crazy stalker intent on getting your attention at all costs. You walk faster, hoping to lose him along the way, but no, there he is, hands in his pockets, grinning like the idiot he is.   
  
As soon as you get home, you're ready to do what you've done the previous two times: open the door, lock it, and forget about him. Both times, he just watched the house for a few minutes before going on his merry way. This time, however, you're already fed up.  
  
You turn around to face him. He stops abruptly, raising his brow—in surprise, is your best guess—giving you his full attention. Good.  
  
"Why the hell are you following me?" you ask, already at your wit's end. He shrugs.  
  
"Because I want to," he answers, smiling brightly. You sigh impatiently.  
  
"Look, I don't want to be friends with you. Just stay away from me." You turn to your door, hoping that will be enough.  
  
"You're lonely," he says, suddenly. You stop, taking in his words. What does he care?  
  
"So?" you ask. He's grinning when you look back at him. Why must he act so cocky, so damn _confident_? He's a nobody at school, a total outcast. Not even the girls who harbor crushes on him want to get near enough to find out if all the rumors are true. And yet, here he is, gazing at you like he knows all the answers in the universe—acting like he fucking _knows_ you. Who the hell does he think he is?  
  
"I like you," he says, shrugging. There's nothing suggestive about his tone, it's a simple statement. What is that supposed to mean?  
  
"So I'm supposed to talk and pay attention to you because you suddenly decided you like me?"  
  
He pauses to think, before shrugging again.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
You sigh impatiently, turning away from him. He's right: your girlfriend broke up with you, your friends at school don't seem to care anymore; even your family… But _him_? All right, so Kim Jaejoong may be a little off, but maybe he isn’t so bad, after all?  
  
Damn it.  
  
You roll your eyes, turning to face him again.  
  
"Fine! Come in. But don't touch anything."  
  
He smiles brightly, walking over and following you inside the house. Hopefully, you won't regret this.  
  


**Title: Rest**  
  
"It's almost like we're back at square one."  
  
You look into the living room. He's still lying there, watching TV motionlessly. You sigh, running a hand through your hair in frustration, and return to the bedroom, phone to your ear still.  
  
"He's not eating, I have to force feed him. He showers because I remind him to, otherwise I bet he wouldn't for days." You sit on the bed, on the verge of tears. "I don't know what to do."  
  
At the other end of the line, you hear Junsu sigh. He has been calling every day since you got back to the city days ago. He keeps asking if he can visit, that he would like to see both you and Jaejoong, but every time you tell your lover, he shakes his head and looks away. You're getting tired of making up excuses you know Junsu doesn't believe, but you won't force Jaejoong to do something he doesn't want to do, no matter how much his doctor back at the hospital insisted.  
  
"He shouldn't be alone," the doctor said. "Keep him busy and get him as much social interaction as he can handle."  
  
So far, you're a failure. At least he's taking his medication, and maybe someday he'll get out of this terrible depression and return to his normal self somewhat (without the disappearing or the substance abuse or the insanity). It's painful to watch him like this and you're so afraid of leaving him alone. Even going grocery shopping drives you crazy with worry.  
  
"You should both come over soon," Junsu says. "Maybe being around other people would make him feel better. And he knows us, so no worries there."  
  
"I'll try convincing him. He's so tired all the time." You close your eyes. "I really thought he was getting better. That day at the beach… I could have sworn, Junsu. I thought he was okay."  
  
"Have you found a doctor yet?"  
  
"He has an appointment next week." You've never been to a psychiatrist before. What must it be like? You may need to talk with the doctor since you're Jaejoong's caretaker now. "He didn't seem to care much when I told him. It’s like everything he said were lies."  
  
"Yoochun, you need to be patient. Isn't that what Yunho told you?"  
  
"Yeah." He had, more than once.  
  
"Have you spoken to him since you got back?" How like Junsu to ask when you're feeling so out of sorts.  
  
"Once, to tell him we were back. We haven't spoken since. Changmin said he has crazy hours at work these days." Talking with Changmin feels so good, relaxing almost. The younger man just asks questions and gives you bits of advice, at least when it comes to things that are common sense (which you lack a bit of, sadly). What have you done to deserve such amazing friends?  
  
"Oh. You should call him, though, and tell him what's going on. Maybe he can help." You lie down, listening intently. Won't it be disrespectful to call Yunho when he's working so hard, though?  
  
"I don't want to bother him."  
  
"It's for Jaejoong," Junsu says, sounding impatient. "And Yunho would kill you if you didn't tell him. Don't you know that by now?"  
  
Sadly, yes.   
  
"All right, I'll call him. Today, even," you agree.  
  
"Promise me."  
  
"Junsu…"  
  
"Just promise, Yoochun! Or I will never forgive you."  
  
"Okay, okay, I promise!" God, what is it with him? Shit, now you really have to call.  
  
You roll your eyes but go on talking. The more you can stall, the better.  
  
  


  
**Title: Feel**  
  
"The guy kept insisting I had to park outside, even after I showed him my I.D.," Yunho was saying, looking annoyed. "So, I had to call my boss and he chewed the guy out, told him I'm a highly esteemed employee, how dare he deny me entry?” Casting away his frustration, Yunho grinned. “It was kind of funny, though. The guy was such an asshole."  
  
Jaejoong laughs, covering his mouth as he's wont to do. He looks happy right now, sitting on the sofa, hair still damp after a much-needed shower. It has been days since you called Yunho and he offered to come over and talk with Jaejoong, see how he was doing. Jaejoong wouldn't hear about it, though; he refused to see his former lover.  
  
"I think it's because of you and Changmin," you told Yunho after the third time. "He won't admit it, but he hasn't been very happy about me talking with Changmin lately."  
  
"Oh." The dancer sounded as surprised as you had been when you had finally made the connection.   
  
Today, he came by unexpectedly. Jaejoong refused to see him looking like hell, so he had rushed off to shower and get ready. You couldn't understand him then, and you still don't. He's smiling for the first time since you came back, laughing at Yunho's work woes. With you, on the other hand…  
  
You can't help it: you're jealous. Seeing them together drives you insane. It's clear that Jaejoong needs him, though.  
  
"Why do things like that always happen to you?" Jaejoong asks, eyes shining with amusement. Yunho shrugs, smiling.   
  
"I don't know. Maybe I come off as an arrogant prick or something."  
  
Jaejoong shakes his head, gazing affectionately at the other man.  
  
"Never."  
  
Okay, time for you to get out of there.  
  
"I'm going up to Junsu's for a bit," you tell them. Yunho smiles at you.  
  
"Say hi from me. I haven't been able to call."  
  
"I will."  
  
Jaejoong only gives you a blank look.  
  
You take the elevator and go straight to Junsu's door, knocking with perhaps more force than necessary. He opens the door seconds later, eyeglasses perched on his nose. Shit, had he been working?  
  
"Yoochun?" You don't let him say anything else, just throw yourself in his arms. He catches you, holding you hesitantly. "Yoochun, what is it?"  
  
You close your eyes, needing this right now.  
  
"I'm being an idiot," you admit. "I'm jealous."  
  
Junsu shifts his weight to hold you less awkwardly.  
  
"Jealous? Why?" He sounds so confused and, damn it, you feel so stupid.  
  
"He's downstairs and he's smiling and laughing and being all affectionate and I hate it!" The thought makes you miserable. "Why can he do that with Yunho and not with me? Am I not good enough? Is he sick of me already?"  
  
"Yoochun," Junsu sounds impatient, like when he's about to talk to you like you're a child—which is always annoying, to be honest, but you'll forgive him this time. "You're being an idiot."  
  
You roll your eyes.  
  
"I thought we established that already," you reply. "And still I can't help it."  
  
He sighs, stroking your back.  
  
"You're being childish, too," he adds. "I thought you were feeling secure in your relationship."  
  
You shake your head.  
  
"Not since a few days ago," you admit. "He keeps pulling away. And when I said I was coming to see you, he didn't bat an eye, didn't even say 'See you later' or anything. But with Yunho…"  
  
"You need to talk to Jaejoong. I don't think there's anything else you can do. Besides letting go of me. Please." You do as asked, but then he sees the tears that fell—stupid, stupid tears—while you held on to him. He wipes them away, gaze softening. "This is taking a toll on you, too, isn't it?"  
  
He grabs your hand and makes you sit at the kitchen table. You wait patiently, wondering what _they're_ talking about, what they are _doing_. You know you're being completely irrational, but you think you must be losing it; you’ve finally gone insane.  
  
Junsu returns soon enough with tea and guilts you into drinking some. The liquid is soothing and helps you relax. You finally stop thinking about what's happening downstairs, at least somewhat. However, as tension seeps out, exhaustion begins to set in.  
  
"Better?" Junsu asks minutes later, sipping his own cup while watching you. You nod, sleepy. "By the way, how goes the job search?"  
  
The question makes you roll your eyes, but you're relaxed enough that you don't care.  
  
"I've sent out résumés, got a couple of calls. I'm so afraid of leaving Jaejoong alone, though." You sigh. "I keep wondering, what will I find when I get home?"  
  
"Get him a nurse?" Junsu suggests. "To keep an eye on him, make sure he takes his medication. Your savings won't last forever…"  
  
"I know!" you snap. You close your eyes, willing the frustration away. "I know, Junsu. That's why I'm looking for a job. I have two interviews next week."  
  
"Oh. That's good," he says, smiling again. You just drink more tea. "About Jaejoong, though, I could stay with him after I get off from school, depending on your hours."  
  
"Oh, God, Junsu, I can’t ask you to do something-"  
  
"I'm offering," he stops you. "It wouldn't be a hassle. I am worried about him, too, you know."  
  
You sigh, smiling, and grab his hand, holding it lightly.  
  
"Whatever did I do to deserve you?" you ask, wondering over and over, just like you have been the last few years.  
  
He smiles wryly, holding your hand tightly. Why does he look so sad?  
  
"Be yourself, I guess," he says. "Or maybe I'm an idiot, who knows?" He grins.  
  
You stare into his eyes. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes and you see yourself moving closer, so close…  
  
Junsu turns away just as your lips are about to touch his.  
  
"You'll regret it," he says softly. You blink, stunned. What the hell are you doing?  
  
"Oh, god," you whisper, heart beating fast. "Junsu…"  
  
"Nothing happened," he says. "Let's leave it at that." His gaze is so intense, though, so… hopeful. For a moment, you consider it, just taking him into your arms and kissing him deeply, roughly. You're so starved for affection right now, so stressed, so confused, you want to do it. You know he still loves you (you have no idea why), he would do it if you insisted, Hyukjae and Jaejoong be damned.   
  
You push the urge away, though. You shake your head, feeling like a complete bastard. What is wrong with you?  
  
"I'm sorry," you apologize at once, reaching out to hug him, instead. He hugs back, hands clutching at your shirt. "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."  
  
"It's all right," he insists. "Let's forget about it. Please."  
  
You nod in agreement and let go. It's time to go back, anyway. You say goodbye hesitantly, hoping that your friendship isn't ruined. If you didn't have Junsu… you wouldn't be alive right now. He's the purest, most amazing friend you’ve ever had.  
  
And you must be the most horrible human being on earth.

  
  
**Title: Jealousy**  
  
"Well, it's better than him drinking himself to death, though, isn't it?"  
  
The comment strikes you as completely insensitive, but, well, Changmin is right. What do you prefer: a Jaejoong intent on killing himself through thoughtless actions or a Jaejoong who…?  
  
"I don't know about that," you interrupt your train of thought. "To be honest, neither makes me happy and I doubt being in either state makes him happy." You remember how lost he seemed every time you met throughout the years, and his tears…  
  
"I guess," Changmin replies staring down at his food. "If only you knew how his mind works, what he's feeling right now. Like you said, I doubt he's happy this way, being tired all the time, wasting away in front of the TV."  
  
You're about to reply, when you suddenly remember a fact (that keeps annoying the hell out of you no matter how you try to convince yourself that it's stupid and irrational).  
  
"Well, not entirely. I mean, he's pretty happy when Yunho visits." You didn't mean for your tone to come out so bitter, but, eh, what's done is done.  
  
Changmin looks up, gazing into your eyes. What is he searching for?  
  
"You're jealous of Yunho?" Why must he be so damn blunt?  
  
You shrug, looking away.  
  
"It's silly. I'll get over it." You hope.  
  
The younger man is still staring at you, though, chin propped on his hand, an eyebrow raised. Okay, this is beginning to get annoying.  
  
"Would you stop that?" you snap at him. He doesn't even blink, brown eyes fixed onto you.  
  
"So, uh, what do think will happen? Do you think they'll get back together or something?" Changmin asks. You shake your head.  
  
"No." You pause. "I don't think so. Why?"  
  
"Stop being such an idiot!" he snaps at you. Honestly, you're getting tired of being called that word. Aren't there better insults somewhere? "Do you even realize what you're saying? And to me!"  
  
"I just said Jaejoong’s only happy when Yunho’s around. I'm not implying Jaejoong is… in love with him or anything."  
  
He rolls his eyes at you.  
  
"Yunho loves Jaejoong, there's no question about it. He knows Jaejoong loves you, though. Why do you think he…?" Changmin swallows hard, looking down. "Why do you think he sought me out?"  
  
You glare at him, shaking your head.  
  
"I don't want to talk about this." It takes everything you have not to raise your voice. "And definitely not here!"  
  
"You brought it up," Changmin returns. Well, you can't argue with that. "He knew you and Jaejoong had been together for a couple of months before he decided to tell me. It took him that long to realize Jaejoong wouldn't come back to him, no matter how much he wanted it. He thought I should know and we… kind of bonded over that, I guess. I fought my attraction to him because I kept hoping you would come back to me and Jaejoong would leave like he always did."  
  
Shit, you really don't want to hear any of this. Why is Changmin torturing you?  
  
"Changmin…"  
  
"Do you honestly think, after all the pain Yunho went through with him, he'll want Jaejoong back? Especially when he _knows_ he isn't loved?"  
  
Oh. Okay, that makes you feel like a complete idiot. You sigh.  
  
"Look, it's not just about being jealous. If only you saw him on a regular day and then the contrast when Yunho comes visit." You shake your head, growing more frustrated by the second. "It's like I don't matter anymore."  
  
"And Yunho does?" Changmin asks, finally looking away.  
  
"I don't know." He must, somehow, if he can change Jaejoong's entire mood just by walking through the door. "Look, I know I must sound really selfish right now. I should be focusing on him getting better instead of… whining like this. I just…" You close your eyes, hating that you feel this way. "I miss him. He's right there, next to me, but at the same time, it's like he isn't there at all. We barely talk or interact no matter how hard I try. I just want him back."  
  
Changmin sighs.  
  
"He's not coming back, Yoochun, not the way you want him to. That would mean him getting out of treatment, never learning to manage his condition. And what would you have left? The same thing you had before: nothing."  
  
He's right and you know it; you don't hate it any less.  
  
"Be patient," Changmin says, holding your gaze.  
  
What else can you do?  
  
  
Title: Free  
  
"There's this awesome spot right by the shore! It's beautiful and dark and terrifying, and…"  
  
He goes on and on with a litany of adjectives you couldn't care less about. It's two in the freaking morning! Why in the world would you care about some spot on the beach? You just want to go back to bed, and you keep nodding off, except then he'll raise his voice and you'll have no choice but to listen.  
  
"Yoochunnie, are you listening?" he whines. The tone rather surprises you. Has he ever spoken to you this way? Then again, you have been friends what, two, three weeks? That's not enough time to get to know anyone (and especially this guy).  
  
Not twenty minutes earlier, you were woken up by the sound of someone knocking on your bedroom window. You were startled, to say the least; you jumped on your feet and turned to the window at once. And there he was, grinning as if waking you up at nearly two in the morning was absolutely normal.  
  
"What are you doing here?" God, you were so angry, you’d almost wished there wasn't a window between the two of you so you could throttle him. "Do you know what time it is?"  
  
"Get dressed. I have a car! We can go for a ride!" was his oh so pertinent answer. Did he not care at all about it being a school night?  
  
"Hyung…"  
  
"Come on, just for a little while. Please?" And he pouted, the guy actually _pouted_! For some inexplicable reason, that did it for you.  
  
You told him to go back to the car and stop making noise before he woke your father up. Then you changed into jeans and a t-shirt and left the house, keys in your pocket. And then you saw the car.  
  
It was… old. And… dark, and… Hell, you couldn't even tell what brand it was!  
  
 _"Come on!"_ he called out. You had to shush him before finally getting into the car. Okay, it was neat enough, not all grimy and greasy like you expected. In fact, it was pretty nice…  
  
Until he started driving.  
  
All throughout the ride you keep wondering why a guy who isn't even eighteen yet (or _is_ he eighteen already? You have no idea) is _driving_. Won't you get in trouble if a police officer stops you?  
  
"Nah, I do this all the time," he assures you when you ask. "I was only stopped once and the guy let me go." There is something about his grin, but you don't feel like asking. Still, you briefly wonder how that is possible when he drives a bit like a maniac. Ah, never mind. You settle more comfortably into your seat and tune him out as he goes on and on.  
  
It feels like forever before you finally arrive to wherever it is he wants to go. He nearly pushes you out of the car, so eager to share this place with you. Pushy bastard. When you finally do step out of the car, however… The beach at night: the cool wind brushing your skin, dark skies covered in stars. There's a sense of peace there. For the first time in what feels like forever, you think that maybe things will be all right.  
  
You would have stayed out there gladly had Jaejoong not pulled you back into the car. He offers you a cigarette—which you accept without hesitation—and then gets out a few bottles of what looks like soju. He takes a long swig directly from the bottle and offers, as well. You decline.  
  
"Never had any?" he asks, curiosity shaping his features. You shake your head.  
  
"I don't want any." He gives you an incredulous look, but you couldn't care less what he thinks.  
  
Music plays on the radio while you smoke and he drinks. It's almost relaxing, being out at an ungodly hour with the friend from hell, away from home and your father (and all the memories that your mother and brother left behind). Wouldn't it be wonderful if you never had to go back?  
  
"Why don't you want to drink?" Jaejoong asks suddenly, gazing at you curiously. You shrug.  
  
"I just don't want to." You don't want to tell him that your parents used to fight about your father's drinking habits, or that your mother is completely against it. She may not be home anymore, and you might be curious about the contents of Jaejoong's bottle, how it tastes, what it feels like when it goes to your head; despite it all, you don't want to. You wonder about its effect on your friend. Jaejoong is so hyperactive usually. Does alcohol mellow him out? Or does it make him worse? You've heard that some people start laughing and can't stop; others cry; others become… amorous? In all honesty, you don't want to have to have to deal with Jaejoong in any of these states.  
  
"You're weird," Jaejoong declares. Huh, pot calling kettle…  
  
"Shut up," you say bitterly. "You're weird enough as it is and you're drinking. I don't see the connection."  
  
He smirks before bringing the bottle to his lips again. Why the hell is he so amused?  
  
"You're cute," he says after swallowing. You're sure you must have made some funny facial expression, for he immediately bursts out laughing. "Chill out. I'm not hitting on you."  
  
You roll your eyes and get out of the car. At least you won't have to look at him anymore.  
  
Not ten minutes later he's out with you and singing along with the radio. You're sitting against the windshield and he does the same, except he throws his head back dramatically before finally settling down. For god's sake.  
  
"Isn't it pretty?" he asks, smiling as he gazes up at the stars. You nod and next thing you know he's telling you stories about the stars and the constellations and a load of information you would have never thought he possessed. He speaks too fast, though, too animated and loudly and it comes to the point where you just don't understand what the hell he's talking about. You think it must be the alcohol, for he suddenly stops making any sense at all.  
  
You almost want to tell him to stop, to shut up, but he looks so happy and he knows he has your attention, so he goes on and on, expressing idea after idea after idea, some ridiculous, others interesting and some completely out of his league (or so you think).  
  
Forever later, he goes quiet, smiling as he gazes up at the sky.  
  
"I wish every night was like this," he says wistfully.   
  
You sigh, taking in his words, gazing up at the stars.  
  
"Me, too."  
  
  
 **Title: Trust**  
  
"Hey. How are you?"  
  
You're surprised to see him around today, though you're not sure why you're surprised. He comes by at least every other day, usually after work or on his days off. You can't help but wonder how Changmin feels about it all, but your former lover is tight-lipped about it. Not that it matters.  
  
You open the door wider.  
  
"Hey, Yunho. Come in." No use fighting a lost battle.  
  
The sound of the shower comes all the way to the entrance to the hall. Oh, so he heard. You try not to roll your eyes as you return to the living room.  
  
"Would you like something to drink?" you offer. Yunho smiles, shaking his head.  
  
"I'm fine, thanks." He bites his lip in thought, and he seems about to say something, but then changes his mind (you notice when he shakes his head slightly). "Junsu said you had an interview today?"  
  
You nod. It didn't go too badly, as far as interviews go. Your résumé seemed to impress your potential employers.  
  
"They're supposed to call me for a second interview," you reply, shrugging. "Regular work hours, good pay. I'm keeping my fingers crossed."  
  
"I hope you get it," he says honestly (and reminds you exactly why you could never hate him).  
  
 _He_ comes out soon enough and you watch as he smiles at Yunho (and only at Yunho). A part of you is happy. He's reacting to something and someone. You know you shouldn't complain. And yet…  
  
You excuse yourself and go out to the balcony for a smoke. Today was nerve wracking, no matter how you try to rationalize it. The interview went smoothly, but you're sure some of your anxiety must have shown—after all, you had left _him_ alone at home, even if only a few hours. The fear is too strong, sometimes it's too much and you can't sleep nor eat, until you catch yourself just in time. You can't let yourself go, his therapist said you need to be strong for him if you really mean to take care of him. That's not going to change. Not unless he changes his mind.  
  
Soon you'll have a job again, a sure source of income. You need to start saving again; you keep thinking about any emergencies that could arise; you need to remind yourself that anything could happen. Plus, you need to get someone to take care of him while you're at work.  
  
The ashtray is full, you notice suddenly. How long have you been out here, chain smoking? Shit, and it's already time for dinner. Once again you wonder if he'll eat whatever you choose to cook, or maybe you should just heat yesterday's leftovers, there is enough for the both of you and even Yunho if he wants.  
  
With that in mind, you go back inside. They're still talking, but Yunho is pocketing his cell phone. Is he leaving already?  
  
"See you later, okay?" he says gently, before he drops a gentle kiss on Jaejoong's forehead. Your lover looks so grateful.  
  
"Hey, Yoochun, can I talk to you a moment?" Yunho asks and it's only then that you realize you were staring.  
  
"Yeah, sure." He gestures toward the front door, so you follow. Once there, you're not sure what to make of his expression. "What is it?"  
  
He looks away, as if thinking on how to begin.  
  
"I'm not going to take him away from you," he says bluntly. You look up into his eyes, surprised at the words, but then you see it. Shit.  
  
"Changmin told you." You close your eyes briefly, feeling embarrassed. He nods.  
  
"He did. I don't want you to feel I'm a threat because I'm not. If you want me to stop coming over, though…"  
  
You shake your head.  
  
"No, I don't want you to stop coming over. I'm just… being petty." You sigh. "You make him happy. I would never take that away from him."  
  
He holds your gaze, looking serious.  
  
"I know things will always be… weird between you and me, and not without reason. But you know you can talk to me if you need to. I've been where you are. I know how hard it can be. I also know that if you don't talk about it, it'll eat you inside."  
  
You smile slightly. That's Yunho, always full of surprises, and yet not. However, you think on everything he has just told you. He would understand, wouldn't he?  
  
"Sometimes… I wonder if he hates our life together," you say honestly, all the frustration coming back full force. "I wonder if he hates depending on me, even if he agreed to it. I hate feeling like I'm holding him back, and yet… I don't know. Maybe I should do more."  
  
Yunho shakes his head.  
  
"I felt the same way," he says. He snorts, smiling wryly. "Like I wasn't enough, I didn't give him what he needed. I did everything I could to make him happy. I took him back even when I knew he wasn't faithful. And when he finally broke down and had to start treatment, I was there. And, you know what? I don't regret any of it." He takes a deep breath and exhales. "He tried, for me and for himself, he tried so hard. When you came back into his life…" Oh god, why is he bringing that up now?  
  
"Please, don't…"  
  
"He wanted to be the Jaejoong you loved. He got tired of everything. It happens. But I don't think you need to worry about that."  
  
"What makes you so sure?" If he mistreated Yunho despite everything he did for his sake, who is to say that the older man won’t do the same to you?  
  
"Because he loves you. He didn't love me half as much as he loves you." He looks at you incredulously. "Do you know how long he has wanted this? To be with you and live with you? When we first met, you were all he talked about." He shakes his head as if trying to dispel the memories. "Please have a little faith in him? I know it's hard, but… He's still here, isn't he?"  
  
Is he?  
  
  
Title: Pretend  
  
"Come on, try," Junsu told you early that morning. You frowned, considering his request. "It's just dinner and then hanging out for a little while. Yunho and Changmin will be here, too."  
  
"I don't know…"  
  
"Just try!" He was beginning to sound frustrated; you couldn't really blame him. "Ask, insist a bit. He needs to leave that apartment. It's not healthy."  
  
He was right, of course— _Junsu is always right_ , you think, rolling your eyes—so you agreed. You ambushed Jaejoong while he was watching TV, turned the device off and sat on the coffee table, facing him.  
  
"Junsu wants us to come over for dinner tonight and he won't take no for an answer," you say bluntly. "He'll never shut up about it if we don't go. So, please, just this once?"  
  
He was ready to complain, you could tell right away by his tired sigh.  
  
"I don't want to. You go." The same answer as always.  
  
"You need to leave the apartment sometime," you reminded him. He looked away at that. You sighed. So, you would have to use him to get him to come along? "Yunho will be there."  
  
His face lit up at the name. Oh, so that was all it took to get him to do anything?  
  
You know you're frowning, sitting next to him on Junsu's couch while he and Yunho talk and talk, like they always do. Everyone is engaged in conversation, as per usual, immersed in topics you still care nothing about. Some things never change.  
  
Nevertheless, you focus on the positive things. Jaejoong ate more than half his dinner for the first time since you returned to the city. He has been talking rather animatedly with everyone, answering questions, voicing out opinions. It's a complete contrast to how he usually is at home, and while part of you wonders if it's all an act, you're glad for it.  
  
Junsu sits next to you all of a sudden, smiling smugly.  
  
"It seems to have been a good idea after all," he says. You have to nod in agreement.  
  
"Thanks," you say. "I don't think he would have come if Yunho hadn't been here."  
  
"I know." He glances at them. "He does look happy with him."  
  
You shrug. While you're still jealous, Yunho reassured you and you believe him. Besides, you would never forgive him if he hurt Changmin (you choose to forget that you hurt him first, but, whatever).  
  
"At least something makes him smile," you reply. Junsu smiles softly.  
  
"Things will get better," he promises in a whisper. You decide not to tell him that he can't be sure about that. Instead, you thank him.  
  
  
It's not even midnight when Jaejoong suddenly tells you he wants to go home. You're surprised—he has seemed so happy for hours now; you even thought he was happy to be out of the apartment for once. Maybe he's just tired?  
  
Both of you say goodbye and take the elevator downstairs. He's quiet the few minutes you stand there, waiting, but he fidgets. What's bothering him? The doors open just as you're about to ask. So you don't.  
  
He follows you into the apartment as soon as you open the door. You're not surprised when he goes directly into the bedroom; surely, he wants to change into comfortable clothes. How long since he has worn anything other than pajamas? Well, save for when Yunho comes over, but even then he changes as soon as his former lover leaves.  
  
You follow, but you look away from him even as you hear him move behind you, on the other side of the bed. So, this is it, then? Another night like all the ones before: you change into pajamas and then go to bed and try to sleep. It's no use to stay in the living room or log onto the computer, you'll just obsess over him and everything in your life and you'll still be awake when the sun rises. No, it's better to go to bed just after he does, that way you don't invade his space (he kept pushing you away after you returned to your apartment from your hometown; you're still respecting that) and he can pretend to be asleep by the time you lie next to him.  
  
You stop just as you're about to reach for your shirt. Why did he change when you came back? What changed? Does this place bother him? Does it remind him of his suicide attempt? Does it evoke feelings in him that he wants to escape from? And you want to ask so badly, but you can't, not if he'll keep shooting you down like he does with absolutely everything else.  
  
Suddenly, you feel hands on your skin and then arms are sliding around your waist. He's so close, you can feel the warmth of his body as his bare chest comes in contact with your back. What is he doing?  
  
Your voice catches in your throat as he comes to stand in front of you, arms still around you; he holds you tightly, almost clinging to you. You want to ask, is there something wrong? Does he want to talk? Yet you can't force yourself to speak, you can only watch and wait, and slide your arms around him (because you need him, you miss him, and God, you'll take whatever he gives you). He doesn't meet your gaze, only closes his eyes, holding on.  
  
The first kiss catches you off guard, but then there's another and another, until you can't count them anymore. He feels so good against you, his lips taste like heaven and you have to give in. You let him pull you down to the bed, you let him push you down while he kisses you passionately, so much feeling in it, you don't know _what_ to think (do you even want to?). He takes control (like he usually does), and you let him know that you want him, you'll give him anything he wants and you'll take anything he wants to give you. His hand slides under your underwear, though; he whispers "I want this" against your lips. It's all he needs to say.  
  
You hold on to him and shift your positions so he's under you. He barely lets you move, though, arms around your shoulders (unwilling to let go). When you grasp his hard length, he hisses, moves against your hand, wordlessly asking for more. You haven't had sex in what feels like forever, so you try to go slowly; he doesn't let you, though, "Fuck me," he growls against your lips. So, you do.  
  
He tenses when you first enter him; he lets go of your lips, gasping softly. As you start moving, slowly developing a rhythm, he pants against you, he moans, but more than once he sounds strange, like he's in pain, and you want to stop, but he refuses, pushing his hips up, taking you in as deeply as he can. Then he's kissing you again, he pulls you down and you obey, until you can't but let loose against him; he feels so good, so hot and _real_ against you; you've missed this, you've missed _him_ , his touch and his kisses and just being with him. Why should you stop if this is what he wants? What you both want?  
  
You're so focused on his lips and the way he feels around you, you don't expect it when his body goes taut all of a sudden; then he's coming into his hand, motions almost erratic as he tries to prolong it as much as he can. It's all you need to bring you over the edge; you push into him once, twice, and you're gone. You close your eyes; it seems to go on forever, you can't stop moving inside him; you don't want this is to end, but it does.  
  
You collapse next to him after it's over. You still can't believe it. Did the two of you really just have sex? Is this a dream? How many months since the last time he touched you like this?  
  
A sound breaks you from your thoughts. When you look at him, you become alarmed at once: he's crying, chest heaving as if he's trying to be quiet. Why…?  
  
"Hyung," you say softly, leaning over him, softly touching the side of his face with your knuckles. "What is it? Why are you crying?"  
  
He only shakes his head as he seems to break down, crying out loud, each sob making his body shake uncontrollably. You hold him close, bewildered, wondering what happened. Did you do something? Is this your fault? Or is it something else?  
  
No words answer your questions. You can only hold him and let him cry against you,


	20. Chapter 20

**Title: Down**  
  
"I don't need a fucking babysitter."  
  
Your cubicle at the office is nice, small but private, and you can work comfortably. A few of your new coworkers have welcomed you to the company since you arrived nearly two weeks ago, and you keep meeting people from this and that department. You try to be polite, even friendly, but you can't do any more than that—your mind is far away from all of them, focused, as always, on one Kim Jaejoong.  
  
"It's not a babysitter," you tried to reason with him, the bed the only barrier between you. "It's just someone to make sure you eat and take your medication."  
  
He scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance and disbelief.  
  
"You don't trust me," he said, glaring. "You think that the second you walk out that door I'm going to do something stupid."  
  
It took everything you had not to tell him that no, you don't trust him, and yes, you are scared to death of what he might do if left alone. _I'm afraid of losing you! Is that not a good enough reason?_ you wanted to tell him. Would it get through, though? Would he even care?  
  
"Please, can't we just try it?" Was that too much to ask? "Look, it's just for my peace of mind. Let's try a few weeks. Please?"  
  
He paused, exhaling as he looked down.  
  
"A few weeks? You promise?"  
  
You nodded yes, willing to say anything to get him to agree. He groaned in frustration, turning his back on you and looking out the window.  
  
"Fine, I'll accept the babysitter…"  
  
"Nurse."  
  
"Is there really a difference?"  
  
A glance at your watch lets you know it's only a couple more hours until you can go home. The day doesn't pass by as fast as you wish it did, but you make sure to complete your work on time—your superiors will be watching you for the next couple of months, your trial period, one of them called it. You can't afford to lose this right now.  
  
Most days, you can focus on work easily, letting it pull you in until you see nothing but the documents and numbers and graphics in front of you. Other days…  
  
"Is he still mad at you?" Changmin asked last night. You were by yourself in the bedroom (like you usually are, lately), lying in bed, cell phone to your ear. His call brought more relief than you think it should have. You had to admit, though, that the sound of his voice calmed your frayed nerves, the conversation a respite from the unbearable silence.  
  
"He keeps falling asleep on the sofa," you confirmed his suspicions. "He's still giving me the silent treatment, ignores me every chance he gets. If he's not watching TV, he's at the computer or writing in his notebook."  
  
Changmin sighed.  
  
"He'll give in eventually," he said, clearly trying to make you feel better. You frowned, wishing he were right.  
  
"He isn't all that different from before." That sounded so horribly pathetic, but it couldn't be truer.  
  
You sigh, trying to shake off thoughts from the last few days. He's ignoring you, pretending that you don't exist, acting no differently than before your fight over the nurse. She's nice, Lee Heeyoung, around her mid-thirties, you think. Despite everything he said before, though, Jaejoong likes her, both Yunho and Heeyoung have told you so.  
  
"He gets attached easily, believe it or not," Yunho told you one night he came over. Then he laughed softly, looking away. "Jaejoong is just being a stubborn ass. He'll get over it. And then he won't want her to leave."  
  
That's somewhat comforting. You think.  
  
Someone comes by your cubicle and hands you a bunch of folders and some data CDs.  
  
"They want you to review these," she says before rushing away.  
  
That's what they're giving you: company profiles and corresponding marketing research. You're supposed to review them with a critical eye, write reports on how to improve the company’s marketing research model, focusing on every single aspect, including questionnaires, age group focus, advertising strategies and so on.  
  
You aren’t bored, if you're completely honest. This isn't all that different than the work you used to do for the other company, but it feels like you have a purpose here, like you _matter_. You know it's only a false sense of security and that, at some point, it will all come crashing down. Maybe you'll be as miserable here as you were in your previous job, maybe more so, and life will be hell again. Or, who knows? Maybe you'll love it here, you'll make friends; maybe your job won't beat you to death like the other one did.  
  
Your cell phone vibrates on top of your desk and you hurry to check the screen. A text message. From Yunho?  
  
 _Heeyoung had to leave early, family emergency. Jaejoong called me. I'm at your place. Just letting you know._  
  
…Oh.  
  
You sigh, putting the device away and going back to work. No time to dwell on stupid insecurities right now.

**Title: Meaning**  
  
"I wish I had more money. Just look at these boots! Wouldn't they look awesome on me?"  
  
You're lying on your stomach, on your bed, watching your best friend. He has been even more talkative than usual today. As soon as you got home, he produced a flyer. Shoes. On sale. At some girly store. Not that he's looking at women's shoes, he's admiring some really cool boots you would get for yourself if you could. Hmm, it's not what he's doing or saying that bothers you, it's the _manner_. Jaejoong isn't effeminate, not at all, he's like a kid, rather, and acts cute way too often.   
  
"Yoochunnie," he whines somewhat childishly, pouting—you find you can't look away, gaze fixed on his lips, at how rosy they look and full and even kissable…   
  
You stop. You blink. What. The. Hell? You did not just think that!  
  
He nudges your arm, but you turn away from him, feeling your face heat. Jaejoong is pretty for a guy, weirdly so. You can't help but admire him! That's all it is!  
  
"Don't you think they would look awesome on me?" he asks, sounding like a child seeking approval. You turn to him again, unable and unwilling to hide your annoyance.  
  
"Why do you care what I think? You're the one who's all interested in fashion." You glare at him, but then he's gazing into your eyes, a slow grin spreading on his lips. "What?"  
  
The insufferable bastard doesn't answer, though, smirking as he goes back to the flyer.  
  
"I really want these," he says, sighing.  
  
"Then save for them. Get a job."  
  
Jaejoong frowns, throwing the flyer aside. He sits back against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"My stupid parents won't let me. Last time I got a stupid little job after school…" He trails off, brow furrowed.  
  
"But you're old enough to have a job." Yourself, you've worked during vacations while your father was at work. It isn't hard at all, much less with your father helping you. Jaejoong, though, how old is he, anyway?  
  
"They said that if I get a job, they'll stop paying for school." He moves until he's lying next to you, so close. You're forced to lie on your side to give him more space. "If nothing else, I want to finish high school."  
  
He sighs, visibly upset and frustrated. Why are his parents so controlling, anyway? You would think they would want to be rid of the son they seem to hate so much.   
  
"Can't I come live with you?" he asks, suddenly. You're rendered speechless, and he stares, smirking. "Well?"  
  
"Only if you want my father to kill me!" Your father dislikes him already, no use adding more to the list of reasons. He laughs (you can't look away, watching his every motion, his closed eyes, eyelashes tickling at his pale skin, hand over his mouth). He glances at you again, grinning still, eyes bright with _something_.  
  
"No, no, can't have my _boyfriend_ dying because of me."  
  
You know you make a face—filled with annoyance and embarrassment, maybe even anger—because then he's laughing loudly, getting off the bed as soon as he sees you grab a pillow. You go after him and hit him three times before returning to the bed and sitting, glaring at him.  
  
"Stop saying stuff like that!" God, if he says you're his boyfriend one more time… "Oh, my God, what if my father hears rumors because of you and your stupid teasing?" You would not be happy, not at all.  
  
Jaejoong leans back against the wall, right next to the window, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on you. He's still smirking and, damn it, how you would love to find a way to make him _stop_.  
  
"What?" you finally ask, swallowing hard. His gaze makes you feel weird and vulnerable all of a sudden, and you hate it.  
  
"Nothing," he answers, finally, moving to turn on the radio and picking up the flyer. He sits next to you, showing you the pictures. You roll your eyes but listen, like you always do, both to his drivel about boots and then his abrupt pauses to sing along the songs on the radio.

**Title: Slow**  
  
"He'll get over it."  
  
The TV is on and you're sitting on the sofa, trying to relax. _Trying_ being the key word. You could very easily be immersed in the comedy show that's on (one of Jaejoong's favorite shows), thoughts of work and the world far, far away. Instead, you can't take your eyes off Jaejoong.  
  
He's sitting outside on the balcony, smoking and staring at nothing. You wish you knew what he's thinking right now—hell, now and all of the time. He doesn't talk to you anymore; he barely acknowledges your existence. His actions are petty and childish, but then… Why are you surprised? Did you think that because he's medicated and acting differently than the man he was not so long ago his personality would somehow fade? He has always been childish, always spiteful, prone to ridiculous little tantrums. Jaejoong would do anything to get exactly what he wanted. Six months ago, would you have thought this attitude strange?  
  
You roll your eyes at yourself. Why are you such an idiot? And why do you keep treating him as if he was someone other than who he is? He will forever be the beautiful and stubborn and terrible Jaejoong you met in high school.  
  
The door to the balcony is open, so you step outside, leaning against the wall and facing him. He ignores you (like he always does), but you don't look away.  
  
"Is this how it will be from now on?" you ask softly, but loudly enough for him to hear. "We'll share the same space and pretend the other doesn't exist?"  
  
He brings the cigarette to his lips and inhales, then exhales, wisps of smoke flying away with the wind. Well, it's not like you expect him to answer, anyway.  
  
"I know I'm being overprotective." Your statement catches his attention, you notice when he starts slightly. "Can you blame me, though?" You swallow, trying to find the appropriate words. "When I remember all the years I wondered where you were, when I feared that you might be dead… And then you came back, and still I was afraid, because I knew you would be gone when I least expected it." Your heart still aches at the memories. How many nights did you go to sleep just thinking about him? You shake your head, frustrated beyond belief. "Fuck, Hyung, I _love_ you. Does that even mean anything to you?"  
  
For the first time in days, he looks at you. You can't read his gaze (at least there's no anger this time), but it's _something_ , any reaction is good, even if he glares or frowns or _anything_. He doesn't speak, though, just watches you.  
  
"You're just as infuriating as ever," the words slip out before you can stop them. "And so damn stubborn. When we were in school you used to whine until you got what you wanted, or you gave me the silent treatment until I gave in." Is that a smile you see? He hides it by taking another drag. "Hell, you've always been like that, I don't even know why I'm so shocked at your behavior."  
  
You sigh, feeling tired, suddenly. It was a long day at work and tomorrow promises to be just the same. He's still watching you, so you gaze back. Nights are so cold without him lying next to you, the days so empty without the sound of his voice. You close your eyes, suppressing a groan, frustration eating at you.  
  
When you open your eyes, you find that he's still looking at you, brow furrowed. And, god, how you wish you could go to him right now and just hold him or kiss him. Damn it.  
  
You turn toward the door.  
  
"I'm going to bed." Not that there's any point in announcing it. You look at him one more time and stop (being so close and yet so far away hurts so horribly). "I miss you."  
  
You don't wait to see a reaction, you just walk away, toward your bedroom. Exhaustion grabs a hold of you, and you give in.   
  
You're startled awake by the sound of something hitting the floor. There's an impatient sigh, before the bed dips next to you. You think nothing of it, though, just close your eyes and fall asleep again.

**Title: Comfort**   
  
"I'm sorry to do this last minute. My boss decided on this meeting just now…"  
  
"I don't mind," he says softly. "What time does the nurse leave?"  
  
"Six. Yunho comes over whenever he can, makes sure he isn't alone."  
  
Junsu sighs. You wish you knew exactly what he's thinking, but you're almost sure he won't say anything. He barely has since that day when you almost…  
  
"I don't blame you for being worried," he says, suddenly. You expected him to say goodbye and hang up (your conversations don't last very long anymore). "At the same time, I can't blame him for being angry at you."  
  
Damn it. Why this now? You need to be in the conference room in fifteen minutes and you still need to print some documents. There's no time for this!  
  
"Don't you think you're going a bit overboard?" His words strike a nerve, they do, and that makes you so angry.  
  
"You were there the day he came back, all bloodied and sick and half comatose!" The memory still makes you sick to your stomach. "And he attempted suicide only months ago, in my apartment, where he is living right now. I'm scared to death of coming home and…"  
  
You have to stop, pain taking over. Why can't anyone understand?  
  
"If he does it again and he gets what he wants…" You take a deep breath. "I will die with him, Junsu."  
  
Not a second passes and you hear a resigned sigh.  
  
"I'll be there at six. I'll even bring dinner," Junsu says, tone softening. "And Yoochun?"  
  
You sigh, relieved.  
  
"What?"  
  
"You ever say that again and I will kill you myself." He hangs up without even a goodbye. You aren’t surprised, of course; he’s always hated your self-pity parties. It isn't your fault that everything hurt so much you truly wanted to die.  
  
 _I didn't do it, that must count for something_ , you think to yourself, before getting back to work.  
  
  
The meeting goes by faster than you thought it would. Your boss asks about specific companies and products and seems impressed that you can answer each and every question. When they ask about the assessments and recommendations they asked for when they hired you, you can list everything without glancing at the information on your laptop monitor. You feel absolutely confident, powerful, even. You're good at what you do, this is what you worked your ass off for during college and later at your other sorry job. You leave the office feeling satisfied for the first time in what feels like ages.  
  
Rush hour has long passed and gone, so you get home relatively quickly. It's already nine and Junsu must be tired, not to mention Hyukjae may be annoyed. Junsu is too good for you, always has been. You lucky bastard.  
  
The TV is on, you can hear it as soon as you open the door to your apartment. You can also hear voices and laughter. Curious, you peek into the living room, only to see Junsu and Jaejoong talking and laughing, sitting next to each other as if they were the best of friends. They look like they're really enjoying themselves.   
  
Too bad you must interrupt them.  
  


"Hey, I'm home," you announce somewhat awkwardly. They both turn at the sound of your voice. Junsu smiles at your sight, but not Jaejoong—his lips tighten as he looks away.  
  
"Hey," Junsu greets you. "Everything went well?"  
  
You nod.  
  
"As far as I know." You look away from them. "Everything all right?"  
  
"Yeah," and Junsu smiles so happily you can only stare. Why is he so happy? He turns to Jaejoong. "I should be getting back upstairs. Do you mind if I come bother you again sometime?"  
  
Jaejoong laughs softly.  
  
"Whenever you'd like," he answers.  
  
They say goodbye with a friendly hug (when did they get this chummy?), and then Junsu turns toward you, walking past you to the door. You follow, stopping him before he can open the door.  
  
"Thanks for doing this," you tell him, softly. He exhales, glaring at you.  
  
"I did this for him. I consider him my friend, believe it or not." Shit, what did you do now?  
  
"You're mad at me." No reason not to be blunt. Junsu rolls his eyes. "What did I do? Or not do?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he replies. "Hyukjae is waiting for me."  
  
He reaches for the doorknob, but you stop him, pushing the door closed.  
  
"No, say what you need to say." It may be selfish, but you don't need any more silence right now. "I know things have been awkward between us since-"  
  
"Don't say it!" he stops you, holding his hand up. "It has nothing to do with that. I'm not… mad at you, okay? Just… annoyed. I'll get over it. I left dinner in the microwave, if you want it." His gaze softens and he grasps your hand. "Sleep. You look like shit."  
  
You laugh softly, squeezing his hand.  
  
"Thanks." He grins at the sarcasm, and then he's out the door, walking straight to the elevator. You don't know why, but you lean against the doorframe and watch him, noticing that he keeps glancing at his watch and shifting on his feet.  
  
The elevator doors open. He's gone.  
  
You sigh, closing the door behind you. The TV is still on, you can hear voices and music. He's still sitting right in front of it, too. He seems lost in thought. What is he thinking about?  
  
He has been sleeping in bed again for the last week or so, but he still won't talk to you. It's something, you keep telling yourself, progress. He's still mad at you, but how long until either of you gives in?  
  
Right now, you're tired, you just want to shower and go to bed. You put dinner in the fridge and then go straight to the bathroom. You shower quickly, suddenly feeling exhausted, limbs heavy, eyes drooping. You barely get your pajamas on before you fall back in bed, dreamland claiming you the second you close your eyes.

**Title: Blame**  
  
"He asked me to move in with him. Again."  
  
He takes another bite and chews, slowly, calmly. At the same time, you notice there's this kind of impatience to him, like he's not entirely comfortable with you right now. So, you observe him, aware of how he occasionally plays with his food (how uncharacteristic of him).  
  
Changmin seemed calm, even happy, when he invited you out for lunch earlier. You met outside the little shop you usually go to, and sat together, just another lunch between friends (terms such as _former boyfriends_ or _former life partners_ are never ever uttered).  
  
You're halfway through your meal—you have been talking about everything and anything: news, politics, your friends—when he just says it. Another sentence thrown on the table like all the other ones before it.  
  
He doesn't look at you, nor does he stop eating (though his bites are much smaller right now), pretending that it doesn't matter, it’s no big issue, why should you even talk about it? And you rather want to ask him exactly that. Why is he telling you this so abruptly? Why is he acting like it isn’t important?  
  
You clear your throat, watching his every move.  
  
"What did you say?"  
  
"That I'll think about it."  
  
His reply makes you groan in frustration. Is Changmin for real?  
  
"Isn't this like the fifth time he has asked?" you ask, gazing at him (though he continues to stare down at his food). "Do you think he'll wait forever for you to make up your mind?"  
  
Still, he doesn't answer, playing with his food.  
  
"You seem really unhappy about it," no reason not to be blunt (it isn’t like he spares you from his own direct observations and opinions). "I thought everything was going great between you two."  
  
He nods. Finally.  
  
"Third time. And, yes, everything is. We've even decided some stuff. Such as…" He shrugs. "His apartment is bigger. Three rooms. Third room would be mine, my office. There's space for most of my stuff." He sighs. You can't understand him. Have you been so immersed in your own drama you have missed something?  
  
"Sounds good," you say cautiously. "He seems ready to go for it. As though… like he won't take no for an answer this time."  
  
Changmin nods.  
  
"I'm going to say yes." You want to smile and congratulate him and invite him and Yunho out just to celebrate that they will finally be together, like Yunho has been hoping for so long now.  
  
"That's great!" You can't help but show happiness (because that's all you want, for Changmin to be happy and loved). "When will you tell him?"  
  
"Tonight, probably." He sighs. Why is he so damn unhappy?   
  
"Uh, Changmin…"  
  
"You know, his apartment… it's a lot like ours, the one we used to have, I mean. There's something about it that… makes me feel a little nostalgic." Changmin looks up at you with a rueful smile. “I've kept a lot of our stuff. I think maybe I should get rid of it? You know, just, stuff we bought together, decorative items, kitchen stuff." He shrugs. "Oh, and I still have your framed posters. You should come pick them up."  
  
You have no idea what to say to that. Changmin still has your posters from your college days? Why would he keep them? You don't ask, though. Instead, you nod.  
  
"Uh, sure. I'll come by this weekend, pick them up." Damn, now things feel so awkward (at least from your side). "I'll get rid of the stuff, if you want. We could… give it to friends?"  
  
He smiles.  
  
"Some of it, sure. Other stuff, I'm definitely throwing out."  
  
"Such as…?" He shakes his head, though, grinning. Is he embarrassed?  
  
"Nothing. This is not what I meant to talk about, anyway."  
  
You don't protest when he changes the topic, though the curiosity is killing you.  
  
"Anyway, I wanted you to be the first to know." He shrugs. "Don't ask why. It felt like the right thing to do."  
  
You smile at his words.  
  
"He's so in love with you." Yunho's behavior toward Changmin makes it so evident. They seem to be so good for each other. They laugh together, they communicate wordlessly (just like you and Changmin used to). "I really wish you the best."  
  
He smiles, but his eyes, why does he look so sad?  
  
"I love him, too," he assures you. "He makes me feel… safe. Loved. Even though, I admit, his relationship with Jaejoong does bother me sometimes." He tries to make it a bit of a joke, but it falls flat (you can't stop wondering what's hidden behind his dark gaze). You play along, of course (not that it's difficult to).  
  
"Yeah, well, join the club." You grin at him. "You have nothing to worry about, though." ( _And neither do I_ , you remind yourself).  
  
"I suppose… it's natural. Having a hard time letting go." Changmin shrugs, finally pushing his meal away. "We… are reminders to each other of what once was. He talks about Jaejoong often."  
  
All right. That is not good.  
  
"What? Why?" Why would Yunho do such a thing?  
  
"He just does. It doesn't really bother me, to be honest. We're both getting rid of stuff from our old relationships. We don't want to start off with all that baggage hanging over us." This time, his smile is more genuine. "It's a good thing, even. It helps me understand him better, and Jaejoong, too." He pauses. "Sometimes I talk about you."  
  
This sounds so completely wrong.  
  
"Why?" you ask, faltering somewhat. Again, he shrugs, like it doesn't matter.  
  
"Most times, he asks. He used to resent you so much. Yunho says Jaejoong had periods of times when he would talk only about you, especially about when you were in high school." Changmin smiles. "Now, after all that has happened, he understands. He knows Jaejoong will never love anyone but you." He purses his lips in thought. "And, well, now I know you won't ever love anyone but Jaejoong."  
  
You want to keep asking, but Changmin notices that time is running out and you both need to get back to work.  
  
It's raining when you finally leave the little shop. You curse your luck: of all the days to forget your umbrella… Changmin notices right away.  
  
"I'm closer to my building. You can take mine," he offers with a soft smile. You smile back.  
  
"No, it's all right. I don't want you catching cold." It sounds like something couples would say, but it comes naturally to you, you really can't help it. You wince internally, hoping he won't take offense to that.  
  
"All right," he says as soon as he realizes that you won't take no for an answer. "See you soon, then."  
  
"Very soon," you assure him, stepping into the rain. You walk only a few steps before you hear your name. Changmin is standing only a few feet away, umbrella still closed, rivulets of rain running down his face. He's looking straight at you, expression full of so much misery and pain.  
  
You're about to reply, worried, when he stops you.  
  
"I wish I didn't love you anymore."  
  
His words feel like a punch to the chest. You can only try and breathe again, unable to look away from him.

**Title: Flawed**  
  
"I'm back."  
  
You still say the words even though you know he doesn't really care. No, he's sitting in the living room, writing in his notebook (you should be getting him a new one soon, there's only a few pages left). The TV is on, though he isn't watching. You're tempted to turn it off (it's wasting energy, anyway), but finally decide it's best not to disturb him.  
  
He looks up at your greeting, dark eyes blank (in thought, maybe? In that faraway land he will forever live in?). Yet, just as quickly as he glances at you, he goes back to his notebook and to ignoring you again.  
  
You're tired, not any more than usual, just… feeling drained. Again, not a foreign feeling, but, for some reason, it matters today. And you hate it.  
  
You shower and put on pajama bottoms and a ratty old t-shirt (you think it might be from when you and Changmin were still together, it might even have been his, judging by the size). Once you're done, you sit on the bed and stare at the floor. What now? Go to sleep? Log onto the computer for a little while, check your e-mails and read the silly jokes Junsu sends you nearly every day? (The thought makes you smile: those stupid jokes are the only bit of happiness in your day sometimes.)  
  
Ah, dinner. What have you eaten all day? You ate a tiny breakfast, forced yourself to eat lunch so you wouldn't pass out in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe you had a snack? Once in the kitchen, you open the fridge. There are some leftovers from last night—Heeyoung made dinner and forced you to sit down and eat.  
  
"You're too thin," she told you. "You need a good wife to take care of you." Somehow, you managed not to laugh. Has she not noticed there's only one bed? One closet, Jaejoong's clothing and yours almost mixed (you're roughly the same size and he keeps stealing your clothes). Ah, well, men are known to share apartments. And she does know Jaejoong's situation.  
  
Unfortunately for you, though, Jaejoong burst out laughing. You wanted to glare at him.  
  
"It's funny, Yoochun getting married," he said (and, by god, you hated him for those few seconds). "No, marriage isn't for him. He would make a better wife, anyway."  
  
Heeyoung looked confused, but soon you managed to change the conversation topic, until she finally went home. He just went back to ignoring you.  
  
Nothing in the fridge seems appealing, so you drink a glass of juice (and then wash the glass, because you hate having dirty dishes in the sink). You go back to the living room. He isn't watching TV, he won't mind if you change the channel, will he? Without a word, you grab the remote and sit back on the sofa. How long since you last did this? Just sat back and enjoyed the few moments of freedom you have? It feels like such a long time. Hmm, probably during those crazy days when Jaejoong came and went. Those few hours you were together, his kisses, his touch, they meant everything to you once upon a time. It was all you could get, so you did, you took it as freely as he gave it. Will he ever realize just how much you had to give up just to be with him?  
  
You sigh, feeling depression set in. No, you shouldn't feel like this. Yunho and Junsu both said it: you may be a bit of an idiot, but you're strong. If anyone can help Jaejoong, it's you.  
  
It's difficult to hang on to that feeling, but you do, somehow. Soon enough, you find a game show. Hah. Nothing better than watching people acting like idiots (you refuse to admit that they make you feel less pathetic).  
  
It's hard to focus, though, when Jaejoong is sitting so close by, long, dark bangs falling over his eyes (you should schedule a trip to a hairdresser soon), hand moving furiously, words appearing on paper, fast and confusing. You haven't tried to read it, but you do wonder if his thoughts are as disorganized as they were that one time you dared to read his notebook. Jaejoong will forever be an enigma (and you think the selfish part of you wants it to always be that way).  
  
Somehow, you focus on the game show. You're actually laughing! The sound alone surprises you, but you forget about it soon, loving that you feel some kind of happiness (whether it's fleeting or not, just a temporary respite from a life you're beginning to hate).  
  
You're so focused on the TV screen you almost miss an impatient sigh. When you turn to look, you see Jaejoong put his notebook on its usual spot (on the coffee table, the pen right on top). Oh, is he going to sleep already? Damn it, why must it hurt so much? He's being childish, but so are you. It’s like some kind of stupid standoff. Even so, you're so afraid of losing him you don't dare go against anything he says or does. What good is that doing him?  
  
The thought of remaining alone puts a damper on your mood immediately. He needs to walk by the TV to get to the hall anyway, so you'll have no choice but to see him go. Seconds pass, though, and he doesn't move, not to the direction you expect. Instead, he sits next to you on the sofa, closer than he has in what feels like forever. His actions make you nervous, though, why is he sitting with you all of a sudden, after weeks and weeks of silence? _Just watch the stupid show_ , you tell yourself, and you almost manage to focus on it again.  
  
However, you don't expect it when he grabs your arm and puts it around his shoulders, at the same time snuggling up to you.  
  
Oh.  
  
"That guy in the blue shirt does some crazy shit," he says softly. "These people are insane."  
  
His words make you laugh. You’re just as insane as that guy (if not more). But you couldn't care less.

**Title: Resistance**  
  
"You're quiet tonight."  
  
The radio is on, as per usual, while you sit in the back seat of the car; you can hear the waves crashing not far away (how wonderful, you think, that you can have this right now). By now, you have gotten used to Jaejoong's nightly visits that always end up at the same place and in the same way. It took some getting used to, but, in all honesty, you have never been happier.  
  
Most nights, though, he will be an insufferable chatterbox, going on and on and on until you want to gag him just to make him stop, if even just for a minute. Tonight, he's quiet; he drinks and smokes quietly, sings softly along with the radio. You throw a line in here and there, maybe something about school, or a rumor, or some detail about one of the many singers he so adores (you still remember how heartbroken he was over learning that his favorite _male_ singer had a girlfriend).  
  
The pack of cigarettes is emptying fast, and the silence is beginning to drive you a bit crazy. Why is he so quiet? Just looking at him makes you feel so tired, so anxious (you're sure that the fact that your mother called last night and your brother refused to talk to you _again_ has nothing to do with it). You need him to act like himself! Like he always does!  
  
"What the hell is the matter with you?" you snap, voice raised slightly, unable to stop yourself (you're not sure that you even _want_ to stop). "Why won't you talk to me?"  
  
He ignores you, just keeps singing, drinking from his bottle, gazing at nothing in particular. Right that second, you hate him, so much that you would like to hit him, just… do something. Sadly, you find, you have no other weapon but words (you don't think you could ever hit him; it's so ridiculous! He's a guy and guys fight each other!).  
  
"I'm sick of you just coming by, dragging me along, making me do whatever you want! Usually you won't shut up, but now you-"  
  
"Then get the fuck out!" Jaejoong screams at you, effectively shutting you up. He glares at you, eyes wide and red, you can see something there, but you don't know what it is. For the first time ever, you think, you're just a bit scared of him.  
  
Suddenly, he throws the bottle at you. You have no time to cover your face, so it hits you straight on the jaw, hard. _What if it had shattered?_ you wonder, still dazed by the pain. It doesn't end there, though: he grabs at everything he can and throws it at you: paper, bottles (a couple smash against the back windshield), soda bottles, snack wrappers, even other things you can't see while you cover your face to prevent any more damage. Then he stops and you see: he's so angry, chest heaving; he begins rocking back and forth, pulling at his hair, talking to himself (you don't understand a word, though).   
  
Next thing you know, Jaejoong is storming out of the car, leaving the door open. Finally. You breathe, looking around you, at the mess he made in his attempt to hurt you. God, did you do this? Is this your fault? Maybe you should have just kept quiet, let him have his silence. But no, you wanted normalcy, you wanted crazy, volatile Jaejoong (because you need him so badly—not that you will ever tell him so).  
  
If it's not your fault, though, what the hell is wrong with him?  
  
You get out of the car, still rubbing at your jaw. It's so cold outside, nearly freezing. Jaejoong isn't wearing his jacket, though, and you want to go back into the car to get it for him.  
  
"Hyung!" you call out, but he ignores you, walking back and forth, eyes wild, wide open. You want to ask, you want to apologize; you even want to hug him and tell him that you're there, to please tell you what's wrong.  
  
He stops, facing the sea. You watch from not too far away, wondering what his next action will be. But then you hear it.  
  
He lets out a long, loud scream. It seems to go on forever; you think you feel anger and frustration and pain, even as he's forced to stop and take a deep breath before he can do it again and again, until he sounds hoarse, already losing his voice. You're confused, you don't know what's going on. He doesn’t look at you, shoulders shaking slightly. Is he crying? Kim Jaejoong never cries, you learned that early into your friendship.  
  
That doesn't matter right now, though. You rush to get his jacket and bring it out, ready to call out to him and ask to please put it on (he will probably tease you about it later, _Worried about me, Yoochunnie?_ with that annoying little smirk).  
  
You never get the chance to ask: you start in worry and surprise as you watch him take off his t-shirt (does he want to get sick?!); he runs to the water, diving in, losing himself in the freezing waves.


	21. Chapter 21

**Title: Sight**  
  
 _"You'll get over it."_  
  
He's sitting alone again (what else is new?) writing, always writing. You're sitting alone, as well—it's lunchtime, but you're not hungry, and your friends, you don't want to be around them anymore. So you choose a quiet corner and rest until it's time to go back to class.  
  
Today, by chance, you end up choosing a spot right across from one Kim Jaejoong.  
  
You haven't spoken since that day you and your girlfriend broke up a couple of days ago, and, for some reason you can't understand, seeing him makes you angry. Otherwise, you haven't thought about him since then, you have ignored his existence, just like you did before then.   
  
Today, however, he's sitting right in front of you. This time, you can't ignore him—you don't think you could walk away right now even if you wanted to.  
  
"You'll get over it," he told you that afternoon. You can still hear his voice, soft and almost dreamlike. Ah, you can't really explain it; there's no reason why you should, anyway. There he sits, far away from you, in his own world, a world he seems to hide in, where no one else exists. Has he ever let anyone in? You can't help but wonder. Surely, he must have had friends at one point. Maybe he does, and they go to a different school or something, that must be it.  
  
Why are you thinking so hard about this, anyway?  
  
You grab a textbook and start studying (you might as well do something worthwhile), forcing yourself to focus as best as you can. There are rumors about a surprise quiz today in Math, of all subjects. Why couldn't it be English? Or History? Or anything else that isn't Math?  
  
God, how you hate school. You can't wait to graduate and escape this place, even home, if you're lucky. Your parents have your future all planned out: the university you'll go to, what you'll study there, the apartment you'll live in (it belongs to some relative, you're not sure). You're amazed they haven't chosen your future bride and decided on how many grandchildren you’ll have to give them. The thought alone makes you angry and frustrated (because you know that, even if you leave this godforsaken place, you'll probably end up doing whatever they want).  
  
You sigh, your spirits falling further still. No, no giving up, you can escape this. Somehow. You don't want to be here anymore, you want to be as far away as possible from your family (somewhere it doesn't hurt to remember that your family is only a shattered mess). Yes, you'll get away and find happiness on your own.  
  
 _The ungrateful son_ , you think. Your parents are so proud of you and your brother, you're not sure why. All right, you have good grades, your teachers have nothing negative to say about you. That's it. How will they feel once you run away from them? Will they still love you? Will they choose to forget your existence? A part of you feels guilty that you hope they'll forget you. You want to be the son they never had.  
  
You sigh, looking down at your textbook. Aren't you supposed to be studying?  
  
"I give up," you mutter to yourself, sliding your book inside your backpack. Will you ever be able to get rid of this never-ending depression?  
  
You shake your head, choosing to forget everything that bothers you. Once you glance at your watch, you get up and walk toward your classroom, leaving your thoughts behind.

  
**Title: Safe**  
  
"Hey, Yoochun."  
  
It's so early, too early. You're so tired and surely it isn’t time to go to work, yet?  
  
"Yoochun, come on! You'll be late!"  
  
You start awake, your gaze finding the alarm clock almost immediately. It's true, you've overslept, ten minutes you need for a quick shower and getting dressed and, damn, you won't have time for breakfast, and you need that meal! Lunch is such a hassle, it's easier to buy a snack bar or something and go on working until it's time to go home.  
  
In all honesty, though, you just want to go back to sleep…  
  
"Yoochun!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
You wake up fully and find Jaejoong standing next to you, glaring. What the hell? He's awake before _you_ are? It's almost unbelievable, he's awake—his hair is a bit mussed and he looks a bit sleepy, but who cares?—and standing there, right next to you! Next to the bed! He has never been here before! Or maybe he has been, you don't really remember… Or maybe this is a dream?  
  
"Please, get up, go shower, I made breakfast." What? He gives you a tired and annoyed look. "Last time I'm doing this if you don't get up right now."  
  
Another quick glance at the alarm clock and you've already forgotten all about it. You're already dressed some ten minutes before you need to leave, a miracle in itself, considering the time at which you got up.  
  
When you go to the dining table, though, you have to stop again.  
  
He's sitting there, playing with his breakfast, looking as though he's about to fall asleep right there. Weeks and weeks have passed, and he has never been up this early. What in the world is going on? Should you be happy? Scared?  
  
"Are you going to eat or not?" his voice, which sounds so sleepy and annoyed (not to mention wonderful after his constant silence not that long ago), wakes you from your thoughts and you hurry to your seat. You wish you could talk, if even five minutes, ask how he's feeling. Is he less tired? Is he's feeling any better at all? The clock reminds you that you can't, though. you need to be out of there in less than five minutes.  
  
As soon as you're done, you thank him, kissing his cheek, before grabbing your briefcase and hurrying to the elevator.  
  
Once at the office, people stare even as they say good morning, their eyes wide and curious. You can't help it, though: you're so happy, too happy. He was awake at four thirty in the morning! He made breakfast for the both of you!   
  
Most important of all: he's talking to you again.  
  
"Someone is in a good mood today," one of your coworkers remarks, stopping by your booth. You shrug.  
  
"I am. Why do you look so shocked?"  
  
He walks away after talking a couple more seconds. Then it's all about the job.  
  
  
You call once during the afternoon and Jaejoong's nurse tells you that he has been in better spirits all day. He keeps writing and watching television, as per usual, but he offered to help with lunch today, engaged her in conversation far longer than usual, even took his medication without any fuss.   
  
When the boss has finally left and you're on your way home, it occurs to you that this is all too good to be true.   
  
True, he sat with you two nights ago, the first time in a long while, _cuddled_ up to you. You can still feel how warm his body was against yours, how beautiful the sound of his voice. He kept talking about the TV show, but you weren't watching anymore; the second he sat next to you, there was nothing else. When it comes to him, there _is_ nothing else.  
  
Worry follows you all the way home. You're almost desperate to get there, to see if he's there, and all right, and, god, _will this ever end?  
  
_ "Hyung?" you call out as soon as you close the front door. The place is so quiet, almost peaceful you think (save for the thoughts driving you crazy right now). You choose to just walk in. He's here, you know it, you're worrying over nothing.  
  
You find him in the living room, asleep on the sofa. The TV is on, nearly inaudible. Just seeing him lying there, looking so peaceful… The pain in your chest finally subsides; you must sit down, you feel so exhausted suddenly. And you breathe.  
  
 _It means nothing_ , you try to convince yourself, your voice strong in your head. _A few changes in his behavior mean nothing, except that he's better. He won't leave again, he'll stay, here, with me. Like he promised._  
  
You sit there and watch him, until you can't anymore.  
  
  
 **Title: Whole**  
  
"I don't know how the two of you do it."  
  
You and Junsu had been sitting together in your living room just a few days ago, hanging out, while Jaejoong slept in the bedroom. You had hoped he would feel well enough to go out on your day off, but, no, he was too tired—that was evident the second he fell asleep against you while watching TV.  
  
"How we do what?" you had asked in return, looking into his eyes.   
  
"Stand to be in the same room, for starters." He furrowed his brow. "Changmin and you, how can you spend so much time together? Talk on the phone? Go out to lunch?"  
  
You had stared, then shrugged.  
  
"The same way you and I do."  
  
But he shook his head as he put his glass of juice on the coffee table.  
  
"No. You and I, we didn't live together, we weren't boyfriends for years," he stated. You stared at him as he spoke, dark eyes accusing and even angry. "We didn't make a lifelong commitment to each other and our relationship didn't end like-"  
  
"I get it, I get it!" And you did, every last word.   
  
Junsu was right, of course (like he always is). You and Changmin parted because of a number of terrible and painful reasons, in good terms, yes, but… How can you still be friends? It seems so natural, so normal, to talk and spend time together, you've never seriously questioned it. You should, though, at least about Changmin. All logic says that he should hate you, pushed you away and cut you from his life completely. Yet, he didn't. Hasn't.   
  
Right now, in the living room (if it can be called that) of Changmin's (tiny) apartment, and sitting in a dining room chair that had once belonged to both of you, you can't but remember Junsu's words. And wonder yourself.   
  
That day, standing under the rain, you can still remember how he looked at you and how your heart ached when he spoke, his voice laced with so much pain as he told you something you already knew (even if you refused to acknowledge it). You felt guilty, like pure scum (just like you did that first time Jaejoong kissed you after he came back with Yunho), and it hurt, god, it hurt so much to see him like that. As pathetic as it may sound, you had to hide in the bathroom as soon as you got back to the office, you couldn't stop crying. When you think about how you've made him cry so many times, even now, why does he still want you here?  
  
You were sure things would be horribly awkward after that, but Changmin didn't change with you. No, instead, he called a few days later, as if nothing had happened, and asked if you could come over, that he was getting rid of things from your former apartment and maybe there was something you wanted to keep? As an afterthought, he added he would appreciate it if you could also help him pack his belongings in boxes. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Nevertheless, you said yes.   
  
The fact that Yunho and Changmin talk about their former lovers like it's nothing bothers you still. Who the hell does that? It does make sense that they want to share stories and understand each other better, but the wounds are still open, obviously (yours are still bleeding).  
  
Your thoughts shift to Yunho. Does he feel the same way about Jaejoong? God, if he does, and they're spending so much time together, Yunho visits all the time… _No_ , you tell yourself, shaking your head, _stop torturing yourself!_  
  
Thankfully, Changmin returns from the bedroom with another box, so your attention shifts to him. The box falls on the floor with a thud—like the ones before it—and Changmin sits on his knees to open it.  
  
"This one is a bit heavy," he says, furrowing his brow in curiosity. "I don't even remember it."  
  
As soon as he opens it, though, neither of you can help but stare.  
  
Oh. So, there they are, the CDs you thought you had lost in the middle of moving out. How you had regretted losing them, all the music you had bought. Well, that you had both bought. The two of you share the same taste in music, for the most part, and you got most of these together; they are his as much as they are yours. They're a symbol of your relationship, in a way, one of those things people do when they know they will share their lives and worldly belongings forever.  
  
"You should take them." His words take you by surprise. You look into his face at once, trying to meet his gaze, but he looks away, beginning to close the box. "You should put it in your pile."  
  
It's only then that you finally react.  
  
"No, you should keep them. They're yours."  
  
"No. They're yours. You bought most of them…"  
  
"They're ours." He closes his eyes at your words. "And I want you to keep them."  
  
Some of those albums, you had listened to them together, quietly ("All sweet and romantic. Saps," Hyukjae had teased you once). They were special, _yours_. Is that why he doesn't want them? They're a reminder?  
  
Changmin finally meets your gaze and you _see_ it. Will you ever stop causing him pain?  
  
"Please take them?" he asks, almost imploringly. You sigh, nodding yes. He smiles slightly, looking somewhat relieved. He gets up and goes back to the bedroom; you put the box in your pile, with the few things he still had, like the posters. Ah, those silly posters. How old are they now?  
  
Changmin returns, carrying some more books. Soon, you'll get up and finish helping, but your back hurts from moving things around, including the furniture. You're sure Changmin must be tired, too, but he doesn't want to rest. No, he wants to be done by tonight, at least with the important things—he's living with Yunho already, but this will make it official. Understandable, isn't it?  
  
He hands you most of the books, puts the rest on the chair next to you.  
  
"Explain to me again why the heck I have so many of your books?" he asks, looking slightly annoyed. You can't help but be amused, grabbing a book.   
  
"Old textbook," you say before throwing it inside a garbage bag. A couple of fiction books, some on business. Oh, a book for learning guitar. You hand it to Changmin. "This is yours."  
  
He eyes it and gives it back.  
  
"No, it's not. Yours." It's yours? When did you buy this? You shrug it off, though, and continue working.  
  
  
Sometime later—a couple of hours, maybe?—you're sitting on the loveseat (again, another item from your former home), chugging down water like mad. You're both sweating after finally putting everything together to take over to Yunho's. Only the furniture is left (Yunho said he has a friend who will help with that).  
  
He's sweating profusely—he sweats so easily, actually (you always thought it was incredibly attractive)—shirt stuck to his skin. He sounds breathless, too, chest heaving as he breathes through his mouth. You're doing your best not to stare, not to listen, but you can't help it, you keep sneaking glances over and over again; your brain supplies sounds and images from the past. You must close your eyes and breathe, remind yourself that you're with Jaejoong now. It has been so long since you and Jaejoong had sex, that's it, just that. This ridiculous urge to jump him will go away in no time ( _please_ ).  
  
"This feels so unreal," he speaks, interrupting your thoughts (thank God). "I'm getting ready to move in with my new partner. And my first partner is the one helping me move." He laughs softly (somewhat bitterly, maybe?), as he turns to look at you. "Thanks for helping me out."  
  
You nod, holding his gaze for a moment, but you look away. He doesn't, though—you can see him from the corner of your eye.  
  
"How are things with Jaejoong?" Changmin doesn't sound bitter anymore when saying his name. Random, you think, but so welcome; you need to think about something else, and your lover, what is better than that?  
  
"Better," you admit, unable to suppress a pleased smile. "He's talking to me again, for one. Sleeping less, doing other things aside from writing and watching TV."  
  
"What is he always writing about, anyway? He seems obsessed." You can only shrug at Changmin's question.  
  
"It used to be scribbles, nothing made sense," you admit. "Now it reads as a story, sort of. It's still random." You keep wishing you knew what goes on in his head. "Maybe we'll know some day?"  
  
He nods.   
  
"Maybe."  
  
You sit in silence for a few minutes, when it occurs to you that you haven't asked about Yunho all afternoon. When you look at him, though, you realize he's still staring at you with that _something_ in his eyes. You don't know what to make of it. Maybe you should ask? Does he have something he needs to talk about?  
  
His cell phone rings, suddenly, startling you both. He holds your gaze for a moment, eyes filled with something like regret (and guilt?).  
  
Changmin sighs, picking up the phone. He smiles, suddenly, lowering his gaze.  
  
"Hey, Yunho." Oh. You sigh, almost relieved that Yunho called when he did. Clearly, spending this much time with Changmin isn't healthy, at all. "Yeah, he's here. We've only just finished, about five minutes ago." He pauses. "Okay. We'll be here." He laughs, and you must watch him, he's such a beautiful sight.  
  
You sigh, wondering how things are at home. Jaejoong has been by himself all day. Junsu said he would come visit and you hope that he did. The weight inside your left pocket reminds you that your cell phone is there. Yes, you should call home, find out how he is.  
  
"Yunho will be over in a bit. He's bringing us food." Changmin smiles and you have to smile back.   
  
He doesn't sit next to you again, just grabs a box and looks inside it, muttering about something he saw earlier.   
  
You grab your cell phone and call home.  
  
  
 **Title: Excuses**  
  
 _"Can I invite you out for a drink? My treat."_ _  
_  
The bar is quiet, nearly empty. You really like this place, it's so comfortable, you feel like you could spend hours here and think. Or not think.  
  
"I found it a couple of years ago," he told you the first time he invited you there. "I like it. It's kinda peaceful, isn't it?"  
  
Tonight, sitting here with him, you feel anything but peace. You feel strange, guilty, but, why? You haven't done anything to feel guilty about, not concerning Yunho, and yet, you can't stop feeling like you have wronged him somehow.  
  
"Thanks for helping with packing and stuff," he says, smiling, hand around his bottle of beer. You smile back, meeting his gaze. "Changmin was really happy you agreed to do it. He said there was a lot of stuff from when you lived together and he didn't want to throw anything away without talking to you first."  
  
You avert your gaze and look down. It was hard, being there with your former lover, throwing away things that reminded you of days now past, when you were happy and ghosts stopped haunting you for the first time in years.  
  
"He's always so happy when you're around." Yunho sighs, staring down at the table. "So damn happy." You don't know what to do or say, so you just sit there, heart beating fast. "I don't hate you, though. In a way, I should be thankful things happened the way they did." He snorts softly but shakes his head. "Sorry, I didn't invite you out here to talk about old stuff." Yunho smiles ruefully.  
  
You sip your drink, still looking away. Things have been fine between you, Jaejoong the main link between you. You're friends, you talk on the phone, go out for drinks every once in a while, discuss more things than just Jaejoong. There's rarely any mention of Changmin, though, and you know why. In your opinion, that should never change.  
  
"Anyway," he clears his throat. "He's all moved in with me. I thought he'd never say yes." He snorts, smiling.   
  
"Your persistence paid off," you say, smiling. "He loves you, you know."  
  
Yunho meets your gaze and nods.  
  
"He does. I know he does." He nods to himself, as if trying to convince himself that it's true. Yunho looks down again. "Whether he still loves you or not, I know he does."  
  
You exhale. God, will this never end?  
  
"Yunho…"  
  
But he shakes his head, looking up at you.  
  
"I knew he did, I know he does, and I still went after him. I have no right to complain." He shakes his head, snorting softly. "I know. It must sound horrible, in a way, and selfish, but I love him, I want to… spend the rest of my life with him. And that's all there is to it." He holds his bottle of beer up. "Cheers."  
  
Glass clinks against glass and you drink. How is Jaejoong? You wonder, suddenly. He was going out with Junsu, going to the movies, or something like that.  
  
"Let him breathe, for God's sake!" Junsu complained when you asked maybe five times. He said something quickly just as Jaejoong came into the living room, his jacket on. You gave him a hug and a kiss, and watched them leave, your heart beating a mile a minute. Worrying, like always.  
  
"Changmin was furious, you know, when I told Jaejoong about us." You look up, eyes widening in surprise. Have you ever even talked about this before? "I told him the same night you… found out."  
  
You clear your throat. You don't want to imagine just how angry Changmin must have been, not only because of his personality, but because of how upset he was over everything.  
  
"How did he react? Jaejoong?" The question has never been answered; you have wondered for so long now. Yunho shrugs.  
  
"Like he always did. He was angry, furious." He sighs, brow furrowing at the painful memory. "He flew into a rage, yelled, screamed, threw everything he could get his hands on at me. I didn't stay quiet, of course. It was his fault as much as it was mine. He was unfaithful and I took it like an idiot, I said nothing. And I went to someone else instead of confronting him."  
  
Yunho takes a deep breath and exhales, as if trying to remain calm.  
  
"We fought, got to punches, even. We'd never fought physically before, but we were so angry." He makes his hand into a tight fist. "Then, he just stopped. He just stood there, like it hurt to breathe." He puts his hand over his heart automatically. "He looked hurt, angry, crazy, because he was crazy then, already, just like when I met him. In a second, he was gone out the door, with nothing but the clothes on his back." Yunho sighs. "I waited a while and willed myself to calm down. Once I did, I called him. That's when he said he would look for you and stay with you, a lie, obviously. He lies and we always believe him."   
  
"Like idiots," you agree bitterly. You sip on your drink. "I wasn't surprised that he disappeared, he always did. Escaping, always escaping. Forgetting that we loved him and would do anything for him."  
  
He nods.  
  
"I hated you so much, for years," he says, snorting softly. The admission hurts, though you know it shouldn't—he has every right to. "He loved you so much and wanted to be with you so badly he was willing to leave everything behind." Yunho exhales, furrowing his brow. "What I don't get is, why didn't he stay with you?" he asks, meeting your gaze, as if he could find all the answers he needs there.  
  
You shrug, remembering those days so long ago, when you were young, nearly children; when you saw him for the first time in years outside that coffee shop near university; those days just before you met Changmin; the months before he decided life wasn't worth living anymore.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," you reply, frowning. "I was happy for the two of you," you smile slightly, a bit guiltily. "I was happy he had found someone who loved him, and someone he wanted to stay with." He smiles, as though your words _mean_ something. "I resented you like crazy, though, I won't deny it. He never wanted to stay with me, not until now. And there you were, some guy I'd never even met, holding his hand and kissing him, and receiving all the love and affection I’d craved so badly." You roll your eyes, annoyed at yourself. "It's stupid and immature, and I really wish things had happened differently."  
  
"But they didn't." Yunho looks straight at you. "It's not stupid or immature. The way he always talked about you…" He sighs. "He regretted leaving you when you were kids. Jaejoong says he felt he had no choice, but he wishes he had stopped and explained, at least. It still kills him to think about all the pain he caused you. He forgets that it wasn't always his fault."  
  
You nod.  
  
"I wish I'd known." You sigh. "It doesn't really matter anymore, does it? As long as he's here, with the people who love him."  
  
Yunho nods in agreement. The two of you sit in silence, barely hearing the sounds around you, unintelligible conversations, music playing in the background.   
  
"Another round?" he asks, finally breaking the silence. You nod. He gets up to go to the bar and you watch him walk away.   
  
You sigh, looking around the nearly empty bar. _Peaceful_ , Yunho called it once.   
  
For the first time, you agree.

  
**Title: Heal**  
  
 _He's never coming back._  
  
How long has it been? Ten months? Almost a full year? You never marked that night on your calendar, what for? Why remember the date of the most painful day in your life?  
  
 _He's gone, maybe dead somewhere_ , you think while sitting on your bed, knees pulled up close to your chest. You're staring at nothing, just thinking (like always) about the past. It's hard to forget, despite your best efforts; his face, his voice, his touch, you remember them so vividly, as if he had been here yesterday instead of nearly a year ago. Right now, at nearly two in the morning, you can't help but remember.  
  
You were dreaming less than an hour ago, you were going up some stairs, climbing each step. You couldn't reach the top, it was so far away, but you kept trying, nearly running, desperate to get there. But you never did. When you woke up, your heart racing—as if you had been running for real—you could only think one thing: _At least the dream wasn't about him._  
  
It's pathetic, you know it is. Why are you still thinking about him, anyway? You want to erase every memory you have of him: back at school, in the park; out in his car, driving up to the beach at two in the morning, the radio on, always the radio. You hate this room, this place where you spent countless days together, his voice so soft and beautiful as he spoke or sang or… No, you don't want to remember.  
  
 _He's never coming back_ , you remind yourself once again, closing your eyes tightly. It's the only thing you can do now (before, you thought life wasn't worth living if he wasn't in it; how you wished for everything to end), convince yourself that it's time you finally let go. No matter how much it hurts.  
  
You grab a notebook and write, write and write, every feeling that has been haunting you for months, everything you haven't been able to say or express in any way—because you have no one, he was your only friend, your everything. What did you need anyone else for?—words and words appearing on paper, a mess of nothing and everything.  
  
Four pages later, you stop. Four pages. You stare down at them, at your writing. Have you really just written all that? Why can't you remember anything you put there?  
  
 _Unimportant_ , you decide, ripping the pages from the notebook. You glance at them once again, but you don't read. Instead, you fold them in half, then again, until you're holding a perfect square. You get up and grab the candle you keep in your room (in case there's a power outage, it doesn't hurt to be prepared) and grab your lighter (nicotine addiction, at least he left something for you to remember him by). It looks so pretty, you think, staring at the flame as you place the candle on the candle holder. The fire almost hypnotizes you, and you would welcome it, except you have something to do.  
  
You glance at the folded pages again, the pain in your chest subsiding somewhat, and almost completely, when you hold them over the flame. Something makes you stop, though, you hold the pages close to your chest, it's so painful, you can't do it!   
  
_So pathetic_ , you think, angry with yourself even as tears slide down your face. Somehow, you muffle every sob, until the tears seem to run out, your chest heaving and aching.  
  
"I can do this," you tell yourself, your voice hoarse in the silence of your bedroom.  
  
You take the folded pages and hold them over the flame. This time, you don't hesitate, you watch as the fire burns brighter, taking the edge first. You let the papers fall on the base of the candle holder, and you watch, your heart beating painfully in your chest.  
  
This was supposed to help you heal, how many times haven't you read that in books or online? Right now, you wonder when and how—and if—it will work happen.  
  
You blow out the candle and place it back. Then, you go back to bed, holding on to your pillow.  
  
Sunrise catches you staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep.  
  
  
 **Title: Box**  
  
 _…would like to invite you to the wedding of their daughter Kim Saemi to Park Yoohwan…_  
  
You stare at the delicate white and lilac wedding invitation, elegant black writing with silver accents jumping at you. It's beautiful, this card you're holding, so fitting for Kim Saemi—she seemed so pretty and delicate sitting next to your brother that night at dinner. You stare at it, and your heart aches, like it always does when you think of your brother.  
  
"What is that?" You look up to find Jaejoong coming into the room. He sits next to you on the bed, glancing at the card curiously.  
  
"Invitation to my brother's wedding." You place it on the bed, next to you.   
  
"Oh. When is it?" He reaches for it, dark eyes scanning the card.  
  
"In two months or so. It doesn't matter. I'm not going." You get up from bed, starting to take off your clothes (you only just got back from work to find the envelope waiting for you), not even bothering to toss them in the hamper.  
  
"What? Why not?" Jaejoong sounds incredulous. "He's your only sibling!"  
  
You shrug.  
  
"So?" He snorts in disbelief.  
  
"So you fucking adore him! I remember, at school, you wouldn't shut up about him sometimes." You think he sounds just a tad jealous, though you choose to not to mention it. "So? Yoochun? You _are_ going, right?"  
  
"No!" You turn around and glare at him. "He doesn't want me there!" The thought brings tears to your eyes; you hate yourself for it. Whatever did you do to deserve your brother’s contempt?  
  
"Oh, come on, I doubt it." Jaejoong is so certain, but he doesn't know, he doesn't understand.  
  
"You weren't there the last time I saw him." You sit on the bed, sighing. "I can't pretend things aren't what they are."  
  
He huffs, moving closer to hug you. You hug back, needing the reassurance. It's so wonderful to feel him like this, so warm and close, no distance of any kind between you. Holding on to him like this, you could almost pretend everything's all right with the world.  
  
"Yoochun…" He sighs. "Look, just show up. You can leave after that. That's what I did for my sisters' weddings, and they _really_ didn't want me there." He snorts derisively. "Think of your mother, though. Won't she be sad if you don't go?"  
  
You sigh, hating that he's right. Your mother would be so hurt and disappointed.  
  
"You're right." Painfully so. "Mom, she's reason enough."  
  
He doesn't let go; neither do you. The room is so quiet, except for the sound of your breathing. How long has it been since you've been just like this, arms around each other, chest to chest? You can't get enough of his scent, of his warmth, how he feels in your arms. He's so thin, still, but he's better, stronger. And he's here, with you.  
  
He sighs, starting to pull away  
  
"Hungry?"  
  
You let go and nod, your stomach growling at the mere thought of food. He smiles happily and gets up.  
  
"Shower, and then we can have dinner and watch TV or something!" He looks so… happy. You stare, surprised. "What the hell are you waiting for?"  
  
You note his incredulous tone, but then you focus on getting clean clothes out and grabbing your towel. He hums a song as he walks away, but you push it out of your thoughts. Jaejoong is happy, that's all it is.  
  
  
He takes it upon himself to get your things ready for the wedding. He convinces Heeyoung to go out together and buy several things, among them a card for the wedding gift. You find yourself with a new suit, too elegant and expensive for you, you think—and all the while you keep wondering where the heck all this money is coming from. Jaejoong has no access to your accounts; he asked you to give him an allowance some time ago. Where did he get the money to pay for everything?  
  
"We saw some awesome shoes, too! We need to go to that store, soon." He sounds so much like his old self, adolescent Jaejoong who loved to go window shopping and drool over things he couldn't have. "By the way, how much are you planning on giving them as a gift? I'm making a list of all the stuff you have or still need."  
  
You shrug, trying to shake away every negative thought. There's a notepad on his lap filled with what look like scribbles (your eyes hurt from reading all day, it hurts to watch TV, even; no way you can read at this distance). The TV's on mute—is it a drama? Eh, you don't really watch anything specific lately—and you're sitting on the sofa together, your arm around his shoulders, struggling to stay awake.  
  
"Yoochun?" He looks at you questioningly. "A number? Your brother? Wedding?"  
 _  
_"Oh, right. Uh." You think and end up suggesting a rather high amount of money. Jaejoong raises his brow in surprise.  
  
"Wow. I wish I had a brother as generous as you." He jots the number down and it's the last you talk about it. His comment only reminds you of your questions regarding his financial situation. Should you ask?  
  
"Hyung, how did you pay for the suit?" He looks up abruptly, and looks down just as fast, checking each item again. "It was expensive. Wasn't it?"  
 _  
_"What does it matter?" He shrugs. "I wanted to give you the suit, I bought it, it's there, all shiny and pretty." Jaejoong laughs, looking at you. "Stop worrying." He goes on to the next item.  
  
You nod, trying to smile in agreement. Inside, though, your heart is racing, you can barely breathe, and you are filled with fear and dread.  
  
 _It's nothing_ , you think to yourself. _He's better, so he's… being like he is, his true personality. There's nothing wrong with that._  
  
However, as you listen to him, to the sound of his voice, as you watch just how ridiculously happy he seems, you can't but wonder, over and over. You take a deep breath and force yourself to calm down.   
  
Everything is fine. Everything…


	22. Chapter 22

**Title: Reality**  
  
"I should study for tomorrow's test."  
  
You turn to him so fast you hurt your neck. You're sitting at your usual spot out in the schoolyard, the remnants of your lunch—sandwiches—next to you, ants climbing onto the napkins. He's doodling again, his special notebook (the one he never lets you look in) open on his lap, words and lines and curves bleeding from his blue pen.  
  
"You want to study." Jaejoong nods and it's all you can do not to wonder if you're finally going crazy. Jaejoong doesn't study, he hates it. You couldn't pay him to do his homework!  
  
"I can't wait to get out of that prison," he says frequently, eyes blazing with a hatred you'll never be able to understand. Today, though…   
  
He arrived early to your meeting place this morning, his hair and uniform neater than usual. He smiled at your sight, and made conversation as you walked to school, like he always does. Once in class, he didn't fall asleep, no; he paid attention, even participated a few times. _Crazy_ , you thought more than once, but you did your best to ignore it. Until now.  
  
"Hyung, you never study for exams." He gives you an incredulous look.  
  
"And I want to now. Aren't you always harping at me to do so?"   
  
You shrug. His voice, it's so… normal. Well, not normal for _him_. He always sounds like a lunatic, voice wild and crazy and happy most of the time. Today, he's just calm. Today, you could confuse him with anybody but himself.  
  
"It has been a good day, I think," he says, smiling. "Did you hear our English teacher? He actually said 'Good job.' Can you believe that?"  
  
You really couldn't, when the words left the teacher's lips, but you don't tell him this.  
  
"Want to go eat something after school?" he asks, suddenly. "My treat."   
  
Oh? But he's always broke. You always end up using your whole allowance just to get snacks and things like that for your nightly escapades.  
  
"But, Hyung…"  
  
Jaejoong sighs impatiently.  
  
"What? What am I saying? Doing? You look like… like an idiot, really, staring at me like that." An idiot! "Stop it. If you don't want to go out with me, just say it."   
  
You almost say, _But you love when I stare at you like this_ , but that just sounds ridiculous. He usually loves annoying you, adores when you show it. What does he see in your eyes that bothers him so much? Can he see your worry? Maybe he sees nothing at all…  
  
"So? Are we going?" he asks again.  
  
You nod, sighing.  
  
"Yeah."   
  
  
**Title: Imagination**  
  
 _He wanted to give up on everything. It wasn't worth it to keep going, he was getting nowhere, just going in circles, searching for something he would never obtain…_  
  
His handwriting is so neat now, his words spelled correctly, every sentence coherent. You wish you could say the same for the previous ten pages, but you can't—those are nearly unintelligible.  
  
The notebook was on the floor when you got home just now, the pencil a few feet away. Strange, you thought at once. Jaejoong always makes sure to put everything in the same spot whenever he isn't writing, the pencil on top of the notebook, almost always in the same position. Why did it fall? Ah, it doesn't matter. He was going out with Junsu, so he probably didn't even notice. They've become such good friends, spending a lot of time together; you hate yourself for it, but you're beginning to get jealous.  
  
It was open to a page, so you read some of it, accidentally… Well, you couldn't resist reading, how could you? You want to know what goes on in Jaejoong's head, what he writes about. Isn't it normal to give in to curiosity?  
  
 _And betray his trust_ , you think with a sigh, closing it and putting it back on the coffee table. He hasn't given you permission to read it, he probably never will. This, no, you can't read anymore.  
  
Instead, you choose to take a shower. Your neck and shoulders hurt from so much stress at work, too much work, too many responsibilities, at least right now. You're certain things will settle down soon enough. Wait, no, you should be honest with yourself. Not all of the stress comes from your job: a lot of it, plus pain and frustration are caused by your home life, Jaejoong, anything and everything regarding him.  
  
He's better, you can see how much he keeps improving every day. He smiles, he laughs, he seems happy. And, God, your heart skips a beat every time you hear his voice, whether he speaks or laughs. You love him and you're happy, you have everything you’ve ever asked for.  
  
Your thoughts shift to just a few days ago, when Jaejoong bought the suit for your brother's wedding. The question keeps grating on your nerves: where did he get the money? Why won't he tell you? You hate that he's keeping secrets from you. At the same time, you know he needs his privacy, you don't need to know what he does 24/7, nor everyone he knows; you don't need to know every detail about his past, no matter how much you wish you did.  
  
You sigh, drying your hair with a towel before going into your bedroom. You should eat. He has been cooking lately and you've gained some weight—you're naturally thin, but even you have to admit that your weight loss was ridiculous.

  
The cell phone rings on your way to the kitchen. You smile when you see his name on the screen and pick up at once.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Yoochun!" he says, sounding happy. "How are you? Are you home?"  
  
"I'm okay, got back a little while ago." Your heart beats faster at the sound of his voice (you feel like you're seventeen all over again). "Where are you?"  
  
"We're on our way back. Did you eat, yet?"  
  
"No."  
 _  
_"I'll bring you something. Any preference?"  
  
"I can make something for mys-"  
  
"I'm bringing you food," he insists. You have to laugh—he can be so very bossy.  
  
"All right, all right. Anything you pick is good."  
  
"Okay." You can hear the smile in his voice. Oh, God, how can you love him so much? "See you in a bit."  
  
"See you."   
  
He hangs up, and you sit on the sofa, smiling like a lovesick fool.  
  
  
 **Title: Reassurance**  
  
"And my Yoochunnie fights with a dragon, slays its heart. Another obstacle to get to his beloved Jaejoong."  
  
The sky is covered in stars, it's chilly outside, but he insisted you sit against the windshield of the car, where he proceeded to talk and talk (like he always does). He came by earlier tonight, around one o' clock. So very unlike him—he likes to pick you up later just to be annoying. Does he even sleep? You wonder sometimes. He probably does, when he isn't with you. Maybe.  
  
You listen (like you always do), and you must laugh. He has been going on about his story again, but he keeps adding and adding, until it's really a fantastic story filled with magic and dragons and flying unicorns, and so many things you have already lost track. So far, you—or Yoochunnie, the tragic hero—have been a simple warrior, a mage; you have ridden a talking horse, met magical creatures (some he has invented); you have fought a couple of monsters and nearly died about five times; and now you have slain your second dragon for the night, except the first one didn't spit fire.  
  
"Those are only a few ideas," he says, smiling, eyes wild. "What do you think? Isn't it an amazing story?"  
  
You don't know what to say, so you answer with a question.  
  
"But what about Jaejoong? It's all about Yoochun! I want to know where Jaejoong went."  
  
He grins, shrugging.  
  
"He's somewhere. Yoochunnie needs to find him. That's the point of the whole story." Jaejoong rolls his eyes. "Yoochunnie, what fun will it be if I tell you the ending?"  
  
"Will Yoochun die?" you ask, joking.  
  
"No!" And you have never seen him so upset over so small a thing. "How can you even suggest I would kill him? Then what would Jaejoong do?"  
  
You sigh, trying to get more comfortable. You should have known when he came to pick you up so early. His mind seems to be racing, filled with so many ideas and useless information, and he needs to get it all out. It's good that he does, else he ends up bottling it all up and then explodes, every word laced with anger and frustration. You like him like this, in a comfortable setting where it's only the two of you, together, no one in the way of what you share.  
  
"I want it to have a happy ending," he sounds sad, all of a sudden. Is this your fault? When you finally turn to him, you see he's about to cry. God, why must he be so complicated?  
  
You put your arm around his shoulders and pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his hair.  
  
"I was only joking," you assure him. "I'm sorry, okay?"  
  
Jaejoong sniffles, snuggling up to you.  
  
"Promise?"  
  
"Of course." What is he thinking right now, that he would feel the need to make you promise?  
  
He sighs—you think he sounds relieved—arm around your waist.  
  
"You won't ever, ever leave me, will you? Ever?" That question again. Why?  
  
"I won't, ever. You can't get rid of me."  
  
He kisses your cheek and settles against you, warm and wonderful.  
  
  
 **Title: Protect**  
  
"I just want to know where the money came from."  
  
Your brother's wedding is less than a week away. The thought of it alone looms over you, casting a dark shadow of uncertainty, even fear. You hate how it feels; you hate that you feel that way at home lately, too. It's stupid, you know, this worry over Jaejoong and what he may be hiding. It's probably nothing; for all you know, he has a savings account somewhere. Or a credit card. Or something.  
  
You don't expect Junsu to shake his head impatiently, though. You're sitting at his kitchen table after eating dinner together. Hyukjae is working late, Jaejoong is out having dinner with Yunho (the mere idea drives you insane with jealousy), so the two of you thought it logical to spend the evening together.   
  
Now, he's looking at you with disbelief. Crap. Why is he always so annoyed at you? What did you do _now_?  
  
"You don't trust him," he says simply. You want to deny his statement but find no words to do so. "All this time, he has proven to you that he's willing to work everything out and you don't trust him?"  
  
You scowl, glaring at him.  
  
"Are you kidding me? When has he ever given me a reason to trust him implicitly?" All of those years, coming in and out of your life, making your days miserable with pain and regret. Will you ever be able to forget it all?   
  
"When he put his life in your hands." Junsu speaks softly, gaze matching his tone. "It takes a hell of a lot of trust to do what he has done with you. He trusts you with his life." He sighs. "Don't get me wrong, he was a bastard in the past, some things I haven't been able to forgive him for, like hurting you. At the same time, he isn't that man anymore. Jaejoong is fully aware of everything he does and has done, and he wants to fix it. Don't take away that chance from him, not yet."  
  
You're confused, you can't help but show it.  
  
"You're the last person I thought would tell me this."  
  
He snorts softly, grinning.  
  
"Then I guess you don't know me as well as we thought you did."  
  
  
 **Title: Music**  
  
"I didn't know you could play."  
  
The door to his work room was open when you passed by on the way to the bathroom. Once you came back, you couldn't resist—you turned on the light and sat down at the piano. It's an electronic keyboard, gray. It isn't at all attractive, if you're honest, and yet it calls to you. The keys are so soft, too soft, it takes the littlest of force and the piano sings. It's strange, you don't really like it, and you hate how sitting here makes you feel. Yet, you stay.  
  
You sigh, staring at your hands poised on the white keys. And you play.  
  
Not a minute later, you stop.  
  
 _What the fuck am I doing?_ It sounds ugly, rough, wrong, so horribly wrong, and why shouldn’t it? You shouldn't be sitting here, trying to get back something that-  
  
"I didn't know you could play."  
  
You look to the doorway at the sound of his voice. Junsu is looking straight at you, standing just outside the room. He looks surprised, but also somewhat hurt. It's not like it's a secret, you aren’t ashamed of it, but you don't like talking about it. You've never wanted to share this with anyone. Right now, though, the way he's looking at you, will you be a jerk and dismiss his unspoken question? You shrug, gaze on the piano keys.  
  
"I learned when I was a kid. Mom insisted." You shrug. "I got pulled out of the class after the divorce."  
  
You huff, knowing there's regret painted all over your face. Junsu's still looking at you, unmoving. Is that sadness you see in his eyes?   
  
"How about when you were older? You had my piano at your disposal, and Changmin's."  
  
You shake your head.   
  
"I was done with music by then. After… after he left the first time, I didn't want to do anything that reminded me of him." You smile ruefully, lost in memories of cutting classes with Jaejoong and sneaking into the music room at school to use the piano. How cliché. "He used to tell me I should study music, send my parents' wishes to hell. He loved to hear me sing, you know? And I liked listening to him. I miss it now, his voice, him singing random songs from the radio." The thought of it makes you smile. How many hours didn't you spend, sitting quietly next to him, enraptured by his beautiful voice?  
  
Junsu smiles slightly.   
  
"Why don't you ask him to?" he suggests. You consider it for a moment, but you quickly discard the idea.   
  
"I don't know." It's a perfectly good question. "I don't know if I could take it if he refused? I'm afraid of reminding him of things he might not be happy to remember?" They are questions; you have no answers. Fear drives you, it's so stupidly pathetic.  
  
You're surprised when Junsu rolls his eyes.  
  
"I can't live like this, you getting on my nerves every damn day." He glares, and you have to bite your lower lip not to laugh. "Obviously, you still love it. Music, I mean." You shrug. "Can I teach you? Or attempt to?"  
  
His offer catches you completely by surprise. Is he serious?  
  
"I haven't played since I was seventeen!" you protest. "Besides, what for? That part of my life is over…"  
  
Your voice trails off when you meet his gaze once more. Junsu looks sad, why? Why does he even care about this?   
  
"Just say yes."  
  
  
 **Title: Snow**  
  
"Hey, are you hungry?"  
  
It's five in the afternoon on a Sunday. You've been home all day, relaxing, watching TV. Or, rather, you've been trying to relax. All peace leaves your mind the second you remember that you're out in the living room all alone, you have spoken to no one all day; you haven't heard _his_ voice all day.  
  
"Hyung?" Jaejoong doesn't answer. He's lying on his side, back to the door (and to you), still and silent, just like he has been all day long. You're sure he's awake; how you wish he would at least look at you. With a sigh, you leave the room and go back to the living room.  
  
Today is one of _those_ days. Two days ago, he wouldn't stop talking, while you ate dinner, while watching TV, even before you both finally drifted off to sleep (your performance at work was rather pitiful for a couple of days because of it). It never lasts long, though, tomorrow must always come; the silence will always come.  
  
"I thought that was supposed to end once he was medicated," you complained to Yunho yesterday. Jaejoong's nurse had told you he would barely speak. You couldn't help but bring it up when Yunho called during lunch.  
  
"Come on, you know better than that." He's always so reasonable (and makes you feel so horribly inadequate). He knows Jaejoong better than you do; it grates on your nerves, though you know you should be grateful someone understands. "It never stops. It's just nowhere as bad as when he isn’t medicated."  
  
You know better, but you still hoped.  
  
There's nothing on TV you want to watch (you can't focus on anything). You don't feel like reading or cleaning. Maybe you should go out? Except that would mean leaving him alone and you refuse to do so, not even for a ten-minute walk around the neighborhood. What to do? You feel so pathetic sitting here, unable to think about anything other than the man lying in bed a room away. He won't get out of bed, true, he won't spend any time with you out here, like he normally does. Why should he, though?  
  
Mind made up, you go to bed and lie behind him, holding him close, an arm around his waist. There's no reason why you can't be in here instead.


	23. Chapter 23

**Title: Burden**  
  
 _"It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?"_ _  
_  
Saemi looks radiant in her white Western-style wedding gown, rosy lips slightly pressed together even as her dark eyes sparkle with joy. Next to her, Yoohwan can barely suppress his own excitement; he keeps shifting on his feet, his gaze jumping from his bride to the officiant and back. The pair looks happy as they stand at the altar—they're getting married in the church where they met—hands joined as they vow to love and cherish one another for the rest of their lives. It should make you happy to see your beloved brother's life falling into place. However, as you look on from the sidelines, you can't get rid of the bitter taste watching the day's events unfold is leaving in your mouth.  
  
"Yoochun!" Your mother calls out after the ceremony is over with, reaching out toward you. You're outside the church, having a cigarette when she comes looking for you. A smile brightens her face as soon as she finds you. "Come, we're taking a family picture."  
 _  
Great_ , you think, even as you listlessly take her hand and follow her over to where the newly married couple and your father stand, waiting.  
  
Your foul mood lessens considerably, though, when Yoohwan smiles at you, reaching out to hold your hand, squeezing softly. _Thank you for being here on the happiest day of my life._ You feel guilty at once. You've been hating him all day, mentally taking out your frustration on him when he has done nothing wrong.  
  
Right then and there, you promise yourself you won't rain on anyone's parade, even if you have to grit your teeth through what promises to be a long night.  
  
Once at the wedding reception, you join your parents (your father doesn't leave your side throughout most of it, except to greet this and that friend or family member), and, later on, you suffer through your mother introducing you to single women, all the while insisting that it's time you get married. You play along until you can't stand it anymore.  
  
"I'll marry when I find someone I love," you insist after she chides you for ignoring her chosen candidates. To your surprise, your father comes out in your defense.  
  
"Leave him be," he tells your mother. "I think he's old enough to make his own decisions, don't you?"  
  
Neither you nor your mother expect his response. She huffs impatiently, but leaves, allowing you to finally breathe. You're about to thank your father, when he pats your arm and gestures to the door.  
  
He lights up a cigarette almost as soon as you leave the room. You notice the way his shoulders relax with each puff, eyes closing briefly. Could it be that he feels just as stressed and stifled as you do inside that room? He has never been all that expressive, but you thought that he looked genuinely happy throughout the wedding and afterward.  
  
"Don't listen to your mother." Once again, his words catch you by surprise. The last time you went back home, you thought there had been an unspoken agreement never to talk about your love life again. In all honesty, you would prefer it stay that way.  
  
"I don't," you assure him, somehow trying to convey just how uncomfortable you are with the subject. You want to come up with something else, anything, but you're unable to.  
  
Your father offers you a cigarette—which you accept without hesitation—then leads you further away from the door and away from people. There's a quiet space nearby, and you stand there together, smoking in complete silence. Somehow, you can tell he's restless, at least where his thoughts are concerned. Nevertheless, you choose to wait—he will speak when he does.  
  
"It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?"  
  
You nod in agreement, choosing to ignore the vibe he's still giving off.  
  
"It was," you say. "They look really happy."  
  
Your father nods, exhaling more smoke, gray tendrils dancing around him before finally taking flight. The sight takes you to years past, when there was no one more important than the man standing in front of you. He was strong and cool, and he would sit on the sofa every night and smoke in the near darkness.  
  
"Did you ever bring that boy back home with you?" he asks, suddenly. You're glad you have just exhaled, or else you would have probably choked on cigarette smoke.  
  
"I did," you decide to answer honestly. "He's living with me now."  
  
He hums softly, bringing the white cylinder to his lips. Of all the things to bring up, why did it have to be this?  
  
"And your job? Your mother said you changed jobs some time ago."  
  
Oh, right. You had quit your previous job right before going back to your hometown, but you had never told your father. Calling him regularly stopped being a part of your routine some time ago; there are so many important things to do or worry about. His questions make you feel just a tad guilty, though.  
  
"Yeah," you reply. "I moved to a better company. Better pay and working conditions."  
  
"That's good," he says, glancing at you. "I'm glad. You look better than the last time I saw you."  
  
You're unable to suppress a smile at that. The last time you had seen each other, you had looked like hell. Not only had your job been sucking you dry, but Jaejoong's suicide attempt and subsequent events had drained you emotionally. It was a wonder you hadn't collapsed (desperate concern over your lover's welfare had probably prevented it).  
  
"How about you?" you ask, feeling… well, obligated. "You look well."  
  
A smile graced his father's lips briefly.  
  
"As well as always." His usual answer. What else did you expect?  
  
He offers you another cigarette. You take it, acknowledging his silent request to stay out there together.  
  
  
 **Title: Wired**  
  
"He said we can move in as soon as we want," he says, his voice a strange mixture of exhilaration and desperation. His dark gaze is filled with confusion and even sorrow these days, but you think nothing of it, why should you? Jaejoong is usually such a mess of emotions, it's really nothing new.  
  
Tonight is the first time you've seen him all week. He was gone three whole days, a frequent occurrence lately (last time it was four days; you worried endlessly, but then he came back, acting as if no time had gone by). When he came over only minutes after midnight, you received him like you always do, your heart beating painfully at his sight (while you thanked God that he was all right). You weren't surprised by his request to go somewhere—anywhere—and hopped into his car, already predicting where you would end up.  
  
The beach was as dark and beautiful as ever, and so was he, you noted, as he pulled you into the backseat and took what he wanted (while giving you what you _needed_ ). You'll never get tired of his kisses, nor the feel of his skin, or the sounds he makes when you're together. Three days seemed like forever, you deserved everything he was giving you now. You didn't let go, not until he did.  
  
Not a minute had gone by when he started on his favorite subject: planning your future life together. He already has everything figured out, from the apartment a friend (some guy you don't know) has promised to rent him, to the store where he'll get a decent, if low paying, job. It's all he talks about lately, all he cares about, never mind you still have months to go before you can even hope to leave home, not if you want to take advantage of the college education your parents have promised you. After all, one of you should have a proper job, how else will you survive in a big city like Seoul?  
  
He knows your parents have secured an apartment for you near your preferred university. However, he chooses to ignore it.  
  
"Then they will come over whenever they please!" he reasoned, sounding incredulous at your suggestion that you take advantage of that. "Besides, your father hates my guts." There was nothing you could say to counter that. It's easier to give in to him, anyway. Who knows, maybe you'll convince him to move into your relative's apartment later on.  
  
Truth be told, you wish you could grab your belongings and run away with him right now. It's terribly tempting, and it makes more sense the more often he disappears for days at a time. You're sick of being worried out of your mind over him; you're sick of his stubborn refusal to tell you where he goes. He gets so angry you've stopped asking. If anything, he always comes back to you, and he reminds you that you're the only thing that matters to him. That reassurance works like magic—it ends (if briefly) what seems like a lifetime of insecurity.  
  
Right now, he's looking straight into your eyes, and you feel as though he's trying to send you a message, or just make you understand _something_. But, what? You want to ask, you nearly do, except it'll probably be something stupid, as per usual ( _Liar_ , you tell yourself; you're just afraid, you always are).  
  
"There's still months to go until then, though," you say. "The apartment can't be empty, right?"  
  
"But that's what's so perfect!" he says, perking up. "The contract for the current tenants ends just weeks before we'll get there. Isn't it perfect?"  
  
No, it isn't. At least, you don't think so. You refuse to shatter his fantasy, however. Let him be happy, let him dream. There will be a time for rational thinking and real decision making. For now, you try not to think of the difficulties that will doubtlessly arise. Living with someone as loopy and irresponsible as Jaejoong won't be easy, and, yet… the mere thought should terrify you, but it doesn't; it worries you, but that's it.  
  
 _I must be crazy to even consider this_ , you think to yourself. Ah, what the hell. You _are_ crazy. The boy currently lying in your arms dreaming of your future together is proof enough.  
  
  
 **Title: Trivial**  
  
"He refused to eat today," she whispers, dark eyes filled with concern.  
  
It occupied your thoughts all day, the image of Jaejoong lying in bed sleeping. He seems so weak, getting up only to go to the bathroom, maybe watch TV if he's in the mood. Otherwise, he just lies there, oblivious to the word (or trying to be?).  
  
When you get home after a difficult day at work (you couldn't focus on anything at all), Heeyoung rushes to keep you near the front door. She's worried, she says, Jaejoong seems to be wasting away. Except, it makes no sense.  
  
"I thought his medication was supposed to deal with that." It happens again and again, but why? You can't bring yourself to accept Yunho's logic.  
  
She shrugs, shaking her head.  
  
"He has been getting better," she replies. "And then he has these periods. But he needs to eat." She turns pleading eyes on you. "Please, try and make him. A snack, at the very least."  
  
She goes home only minutes later, and you're left there, wondering what to do. Her observation is old news to you. How long has he been like this? How many days? You haven't kept count—you don't intend to start now—waiting, just waiting.  
  
"I haven't heard from him in a while," Junsu told you only a couple of days ago. Yunho had recently remarked on how Jaejoong refuses to speak on the phone, always busy or tired. Your lover never ever ignores Yunho, not if he can help it. So, what's going on? And, what can you do about it?  
  
You sigh, walking deeper inside the apartment. A shower is in order, as is dinner, and maybe some TV afterward. Yeah, just… do what you need to do; you can worry about anything else once you've finished.  
  
He seems to be asleep when you go into the bedroom. You choose to leave him alone, heading to the bathroom and taking a quick shower—you're sure you'll fall asleep if you take a bath; what if you drown? (An attractive idea… No, kill that train of thought. You didn't do it before, and you will not do it now.) Instant ramyun becomes dinner. Once you're done, you stand right outside your bedroom and wonder what the heck you're supposed to do. With a sigh, you step inside the dark room.  
  
"Hey, Hyung, want to eat?" A look at him and you can tell he is awake. "I'll make you anything you want." No answer, no freaking answer. It's exhausting, this horrible cycle.  
  
You lie next to him, disappointed.  
  
"… Anything?" he asks, after what seems like forever. You sigh in relief, lips widening in a smile.  
  
"Anything."  
  
  
 **Title: Bones**  
  
"No, no, no. Like this." He plays the piano slowly, enough so that you can clearly see what he is doing. You watch his smaller hands as they gracefully dance over the keys. Once he's done, he looks at you expectantly. "Do it again." A resigned sigh later, you comply.  
  
You didn't think he was serious when he offered to teach you to play the piano. Days after your short conversation, he showed up at your doorstep and demanded, in no uncertain terms, that you come up to his apartment to begin your lessons.  
  
"No excuses," he said just as you were opening your mouth to protest. Damn it, why did he have to know you so well?  
  
 _He loved you_ , you remind yourself (loved? Loves?). A year and two months, maybe more, maybe less, you loved him, as well. Junsu might have thought otherwise, probably still did, especially after _he_ came back into your life and reopened still healing wounds. Nevertheless, your feelings for the man you now call your best friend were real, up until the night he declared he wanted to end your relationship—no, you loved him far longer than that.  
  
"I want to break up," you can still hear the words as if he had uttered them right now. He had felt so warm next to you, so perfect and safe, and then, those words. Yes, you had expected it, ever since Jaejoong had disappeared. It had still caught you off guard.  
  
"Oh, my God, _Yoochun!_ " he cries in dismay when you fuck up on the piano once again. He's not as frustrated as he sounds—it's easy to tell after so many years—though it has to grate on his nerves that, while he can make any child play within days, it's taking forever to teach you. "Again!"  
  
What would life be like now if your first love had never come back? You have wondered so many times over the years. _What crappy timing_ , you think sometimes. Life hadn't been perfect, but you had been happy, happier than you had been since he had abandoned you. Okay, you know the reasons now, but despite all your efforts, sometimes you think you will never be able to forgive him.  
  
Sometimes you almost ask Junsu for his opinion. Thankfully, you stop yourself before you can go and be an even bigger jerk than you already are. He may be your friend, you may be close, but… well, you haven't really liked it the few times he has brought it up, have you?  
  
Jaejoong was up and about when you woke up in the morning. It caused you no small amount of joy to see him out of bed, fresh from the shower, looking tired, true, but awake, damn it! This freaking roller coaster that is Kim Jaejoong will end up killing you, you're almost sure.  
  
 _If I don't kill myself first_ , you think bitterly.  
  
"Ah, much better," Junsu says, smiling at you. You smile back, watching as he goes back to the piano and plays. He's so patient, so _special_. That horrible, selfish part of you wishes things had turned out differently, sometimes. Guilt washes over you almost immediately, and you kick yourself for it. Yet, you think about it again, next time your lover has one of those quiet episodes. Like now …  
  
Ugh, what the hell are you doing? You love Jaejoong, you have made countless sacrifices for him. How can you even think about throwing it all away? _Be happy with what you have, damn it!_ You need to repeat this to yourself over and over, until it finally sinks in, and remind yourself of all those other times he talks to you, like this morning.  
  
"Hey, are you two done?" Speak of the devil. He insisted on coming along with you, thankfully; otherwise, you were dreading having to leave him alone. (Though, thinking on it, maybe that was Junsu's intention all along? To force Jaejoong to leave the apartment?) Hyukjae was watching a movie, so Jaejoong had joined him (all the while watching you from the corner of his eye). Your patient teacher took you away for a good hour of torture.  
  
Junsu smiles at his sight.  
  
"Yeah," he answers right away. Oh, thank God! You don't have the patience you used to, nor the desire, really. (Somehow, you suspect Junsu realizes this, but, for some mysterious reason, he refuses to let go.) "This guy is so slow, it's almost impossible to teach him."  
  
"Hey!" you protest. "And I was just about to praise my wonderful teacher."  
  
Junsu rolls his eyes but laughs. On the other hand, Jaejoong watches you, looking from Junsu to you and back. You want to ask what he's thinking, but now is not the time. No, you know what he will say before he says it.  
  
"Can we go home? I'm tired," he says. You nod. He smiles lightly and leaves the room.  
  
"He seems better," Junsu remarks. You can feel his gaze on you, dark eyes filled with questions.  
  
"Yeah." And it's all you will say about it. For now.  
  
  
 **Title: Chase**  
  
"Your dick will freeze and fall off!" He laughs out loud and flips you off, before completely ignoring your warning and diving into the freezing sea. He does that often: skinny dipping, until he's tired and his teeth are chattering, the cold night wind enveloping his bare body. He keeps trying to get you to join him, but, while he never gets sick, you, with your now controlled asthma, can't take the chance of ending up in the hospital (not to mention that while you're a lot of things, masochistic is not one of them).  
  
Instead, you sit somewhat comfortably against the windshield of Jaejoong's old car and watch him. He looks natural in the water, even as that liquid darkness swallows him whole for seconds at a time. Jaejoong loves it, that volatile and unpredictable body that is so like him. The waves reach the shore, then recede, over and over; the motion repeats itself, and still, there he is, wading through the only place he seems to find peace. (Sometimes you envy the sea. It's ridiculous, you know, but he gives himself so freely while swimming, becoming a part of it mind and body. Why can't he do that with you?)  
  
He acts less like a lunatic on nights like these. Once he comes out, skin so pale he almost looks like a ghost, it feels as though a load has been taken off his shoulders. Does he feel free? Does it make him happy enough that he's able to forget everything that makes him miserable? Either way, you welcome him back, secure in the knowledge that not even the sea can steal him away.  
  
"I guess you would miss it if it did fall off," he teases you maybe an hour later, after you have effectively warmed him up. You roll your eyes; he laughs.  
  
"Yeah, I would be devastated," you reply sarcastically (while trying to suppress the urge to reply that hell, yeah, you would!). "Not that you care."  
  
"Oh, I care." He lowers his voice, embedding it with a sensuality that is inherently his. It makes you shiver—he grins, loving your reaction. Jaejoong leans down and kisses you deeply, taking your breath away. The second round is more intense, more intimate, somehow. Even as you hold on to him, you marvel at how easily you fall into him; you think it must be the same for him, if his complete and utter abandon is any indication.  
  
"Soon," he whispers only seconds after you both reach climax. "It won't be in this beat-up car. And it'll be just you and me, no one else in the way."  
  
He moves away to turn the radio on and sings along with the ballad playing. He then comes back to you, giggling as you struggle to find a comfortable position without having to let go of each other. Soon enough, you settle down together, music filling the air. You decide to ignore the words he keeps repeating over and over lately. He's right, and you can't wait for the day when you can have him all to yourself. However, now is now; with him, now is everything.


	24. Chapter 24

**Title: Sing**  
  
"No more secrets."  
  
The door closes, and you wake up with a start. It takes you nearly a minute to get your bearings. You're in your living room, lying uncomfortably on the sofa, a magazine open face down on your chest. A glance at the wall clock reveals that it's nearly ten at night.  
  
"Yoochun? Are you sleeping?"  
  
His steps come closer all the way from the front door. He's smiling widely, a shopping bag in one hand. No one would believe that, just days ago, he was lying in bed, too weak (or unwilling?) to get up and act like a regular human being. A few days ago, he snapped out of it. Now, he's smiling again, moving around the house, talking to you.   
  
"Where were you?" you ask right away, sitting up. When you came home from work, you only found a piece of paper taped to a wall that read, _"Gone shopping with Junsu. Call cell phone if you need me!"_ and just below that, the drawing of a heart pierced through with an arrow. He used to draw that sometimes, back when you were in high school. Freak.  
  
"I believe I left a note," he says, sounding pleased with himself. His playful grin catches you by surprise. "What? Missed me?"  
  
You roll your eyes at that.  
  
"You wish," you tease back. Jaejoong just smirks, sitting next to you. It's then that you notice the shopping bag in his hand. "What did you buy?"  
 _  
_"Some stuff." He shrugs, as though it doesn't matter. "A couple of shirts, jeans. You know, regular stuff."  
  
What he doesn't seem to realize is that you are neither stupid nor misinformed. The name on the bag is no ordinary brand.  
  
"That looks like more than just 'stuff,'" you reply, keeping your tone steady. "A couple of shirts in that store… Well, I've never shopped there. I need to eat."  
  
That gets his attention. Your lover narrows his eyes at you, lazily studying your body language.  
  
"What's with you?" he asks, standing up. "I thought you wanted me to go out, to be normal like you, and Junsu, and everyone in this freaking city. I'm doing that, aren't I?"  
  
You haven't seen him so angry in a long time. He goes from happy to sad, maybe numb sometimes, but never ever angry. He's right, you realize, but you never asked him to lie to you. You take a deep breath before speaking again.  
  
"Where did that money come from?" you ask the question he keeps evading. "One day you're practically penniless, the next you're buying me expensive suits and shopping in brand stores. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"  
 _  
_"I don't know. Maybe," he says, casually. The words hurt, just like he means them to. "It's not like I haven't done this before."  
 _  
_"You were sick before!" you remind him, looking up at him. "Hyung, you promised me. No more secrets. No more leaving me behind."  
  
To your surprise, he sighs impatiently and sits down again.  
  
"Someone owed me money," he explains. "I had to go down to a club to get it, and I didn't want you to find out." For heaven's sake, of all the stupid…  
  
"That's all?" You sigh, closing your eyes (relief washing over you as every little fear disintegrates into nothing). He shrugs.  
  
"That's all." He leans back on the sofa, shifting like a child does when bored and unable to do anything about it. "Don't worry, I haven't spent it all. We can use the rest for groceries or whatever."  
  
Oh, that _is_ a relief. Paying for the apartment and other necessities, plus his nurse, has been an issue. You don't spend much on him, but you earn just enough for the two of you. He hasn't talked about going back to work, even though the doctor has said that he should be able to do so soon (you have decided not to say anything, yet).   
  
Jaejoong exhales impatiently and gets up, going straight for the stereo. He turns the radio on, smiling as he recognizes the theme song of some drama he watches sometimes. You watch him, forever reminded of the child he used to be and the innocent insanity that ruled his life.  
  
"Dance with me," he says, reaching out to you, a little smirk on his lips. You feel tired and stressed; the last thing you want is to dance to some romantic song. However, something about him calls to you; you stand, reach out, and allow him to pull you into his world.  
  
  
 **Title: Obey**  
  
"Yoochunnie, Yoochunnie, look at this!"  
  
You immediately stop work (you brought it home to make sure Jaejoong wouldn't be alone after the nurse left) and go over to the living room, where Jaejoong is standing in front of the television set, eyes wide.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Isn't that the actress you were in love with back in school?" he says, pointing at the screen. Indeed, one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen is being interviewed. She looks older, elegant, and mature, unlike the young adult who played rather childish parts. Oh, how Jaejoong hated her. "She's such a moron," he would say, rolling his eyes at her sight (and yet, he never left you alone in the living room, suffering through your nearly obsessive fascination with her and her dramas).  
  
"Yeah." You feel your cheeks redden a little. Back when you’d gotten together, admiring other people, even celebrities, had been a sore issue. Your boyfriend was childish and jealous—well, _was_ isn't exactly right, not when you consider how he looks at Junsu whenever he's around you—and absolutely ridiculous.   
  
Jaejoong laughs at your reaction, moving to slide his arm around your shoulders.  
  
"You were so in love with her," he teases, lowering his tone. "I hated her guts." You snort.  
  
"Like that was so hard to figure out." You don't know why, but your reply makes him happy, and, before you know it, he has nearly jumped on you, making you lose your balance and fall on the sofa. He laughs out loud; it's infectious, and you join him, reveling in the sight of him enjoying himself for once.  
  
You don't expect it when he kisses you deeply, leaving you breathless. It takes a while for you to get your bearings; you look directly into his eyes, at once recognizing that mischievous glint you've known for so long.  
  
He kisses you again, shifting until your bodies are better aligned. When he meets your gaze again, you're almost sure of what he will say.  
  
"Do you want to?" He smirks as he grabs you through your shorts, eliciting a yelp that quickly morphs into a moan. It has been so long since you were last together, you're afraid you'll come from this alone.  
  
"Do _you_?" His grin is all the answer you need.  
  
  
 **Title: Doze**  
  
"You haven't seen him, either?"  
  
"What do you mean 'either'?"  
  
You hate your boss, but you keep quiet. You need this job; you need to make up for the savings you spent on getting your lover back. Therefore, you don't complain when he informs you that you must stay back until late to complete a project you and your colleagues have been working on for weeks. The calendar clearly states that you have a week left to finish, but no, the client needs it _now_ , and the client is always, always right.  
  
"Work comes first," Jaejoong says when you call him to let him know. He sounds regretful (you feel terrible that his sadness makes you happy), but is quick to hang up when your colleagues call you back.  
  
It's almost midnight when you finally get home, craving nothing but a hot shower and your bed. The apartment is quiet, the only light coming from down the hall. Jaejoong probably left it on for you before he went to bed. He does that sometimes.  
  
You choose not to turn on the bedroom light—what if he wakes up? He needs his sleep—quickly grabbing shorts and a t-shirt. Once you look at the bed, however, you realize there's something wrong: your lover isn't in it.  
  
Heart beating madly, you look all over the apartment, coming up with nothing.

"Okay, calm down," you tell yourself, breathing in and out. Through the rising panic, you remember to call his cell phone. It sends you straight to voicemail. Six times. _Fuck._

_Think, don’t panic_ , you tell yourself. Where would he go so late at night? Wait, your friends, right, maybe he's upstairs with Junsu. Jealous or not, Jaejoong has become attached to him, treating Junsu like the brother he never had. Surely, Junsu must know where he is.  
  
"If this isn't life or death, I will strangle you," Junsu answers the phone after a while.  
  
"You were sleeping?" You realize right away, panic beginning to set in once again. You hear your friend sigh.  
  
"Obviously." Not that you care right now. "What is it? Did something happen?"  
  
Fuck, yes, something did happen.  
  
"He's gone!" You manage to grit out. "It's freaking midnight and he isn't home."  
  
"Fuck," Junsu echoes your thoughts. "Did you call his cell phone?" No, you will not insult him; you need his help. "How about Yunho? Have you called him? Maybe he knows."  
  
"I was calling him next in case you didn't know," you admit, calming down somewhat. "I better do it now."  
 _  
_"Call me as soon as you find out something," he nearly orders you. You grunt in assent, hanging up and going to your next and only option.  
  
"Hello?" Yunho sounds wide awake. He has trouble sleeping sometimes ("I got used to it. Those late nights waiting for him," he explained when you asked), so you aren’t surprised.  
  
"Hey, sorry to call so late."  
  
"No problem. What is it?"  
  
You take a deep breath, willing your voice to come out.  
  
"Is there any chance Jaejoong is at your place?"  
  
He pauses.  
  
"No," he answers, his tone leaving no space for question.   
  
"Oh, God," you mutter, beginning to get desperate. "So, you haven't seen him, either?"  
  
"What do you mean 'either'?" he raises his voice, startling you.  
  
"I just got home from work. He isn’t here, there's no note." Those words must be enough to convey your feelings.  
  
"Maybe he went out to the drugstore," Yunho suggests, out of the blue. "Maybe you ran out of something." He exhales. "Let's not jump to conclusions, okay?"  
  
You walk into the living room and sit down on the sofa, closing your eyes and breathing in and out.  
  
"It's hard not to," you tell him, finally sounding something resembling calm.  
  
"I know," Yunho replies. If anyone can understand, it's Yunho. Only he knows Jaejoong as well, or better, than you do (a fact that still grates on your nerves).  
  
A few seconds pass, when you hear the sound of the front door open, and the jingle of your lover's keys. Your heartbeat accelerates, charged with a myriad of feelings you can't tell apart right now. Yet, there he is, walking into the apartment, a shopping bag from the drugstore in his hand, completely unaware that, while he calmly went about his life, you felt like you were going to die.  
  
"Hey," he says, smiling at your sight. "I ran out of cigarettes, and then I remembered a few other things—Yoochun? What-?"  
  
You don't let him finish, closing the space between you and holding him tightly in your arms.  
  
  
 **Title: Forget**  
  
"Did you have dinner?" You shake your head, staring down at your knees. It's three in the morning, your clothes are drenched, and you're feeling terribly guilty. The couple around you doesn't seem to mind, though, offering tea, a towel, and much-needed company.  
  
"What do you think he's doing?" you ask, softly. Yunho sighs, sitting across from you at the small kitchen table.  
  
"I don't know," he answers as best he can. "Did you go to that coffee shop he likes?"  
 _  
_"Yeah." The drugstore and the coffee shop were your first bets before you finally decided to call anyone. Jaejoong never goes out, you don't know if he has friends—you don't know _anything_ about him! How is that possible, after living together for so long? You sigh. "I should go back. Maybe he's already back home."  
 _  
_"I thought he was done with this kind of behavior," Changmin says, barely masking his anger. "I thought you were going to be honest with each other."  
  
"I thought so, too," you agree. "But things happen. I'm sure he has a good reason."  
  
"Then why won't he answer his cell phone?" You want to ignore your former life partner, but he's right (and you hate him for it). "No one disappears like this out of nowhere, not unless he's back to his old ways."  
 _  
_"He isn't!" You glare at him, beginning to get worked up. "He takes his medication, and he has been better lately. And, more importantly, he promised me!"  
  
Angry tears slip down your face, but you wipe at them quickly. You refuse to listen to Changmin. He’s wrong, he must be! So what if Jaejoong has been happy again, turning on the radio and singing like he used to so long ago? So what if that familiar, childish glint in his eye has come back? It doesn't mean anything, because he _is_ taking his medication, period.  
  
Changmin sighs impatiently.  
  
"Fine," he finally agrees. "You should stay here, though."  
  
"What?" You don't feel comfortable invading their home.  
  
"You shouldn't be alone," Yunho seems to agree with him. "We'll get the sofa ready."  
  
You end up agreeing. You're so tired, exhausted, really. This is the third time you've come home to find him gone. How much more can your heart take before it finally breaks again?  
  
"Sorry about this," you apologize to your friends. Changmin shakes his head, staying with you until you fall asleep.  
  
  
 **Title: Remember**  
  
"I can't believe you! Do you know how worried he was?"  
  
"It wasn't on purpose!" An impatient sigh follows. "This will be good for us. I need a job-"  
  
"Not there, you don't! All that easy money comes with a price."  
  
A huff and silence, a clear indication that the second speaker has no intention of continuing the conversation.  
  
"Where is he?" he asks.  
  
"Living room."  
  
You hear soft footsteps, and then warm fingers brush your bangs off your forehead.  
  
"Yoochun." His voice makes you smile immediately. It did when you were sixteen, it probably will until the day you die. "Wake up. Let's go home."  
  
You open your eyes; they close again, but his voice urges you awake. Finally, you win the fight, finding yourself face to face with the most beautiful man you’ve ever met.  
  
"You didn't come home," you accuse him immediately. He smiles gently.  
  
"I'm sorry about that," he says, but he doesn't sound half as contrite as you think he should. You were so worried you thought you would die. Where in the world _was_ he? "Let's talk about this at home, okay?"  
  
You nod, allowing him to help you up. Yunho's in the room with you, but he looks angry. You want to ask what happened, but something tells you neither men will be forthcoming.  
  
"Sorry about all this," you apologize. "And Changmin, too. I owe you."  
  
Yunho shrugs.  
  
"It's all right. You're not the one who should owe us, anyway," he adds, throwing a cold glare Jaejoong's way. Jaejoong shrugs it off, tugging you toward the door instead.

"See you soon," you say.  
  
"I hope so," Yunho says, grimly.  
  
  
 **Title: Attention**  
  
"Hey!" you protest as a report is snatched out of your hands. Not a second later, you find yourself with a lapful of Jaejoong, full lips curved in a sexy and mischievous smile. "I need to work."  
  
"You need to pay attention to me," he replies, mock pouting. "Can't you spare twenty minutes? Ten?"  
  
Your back aches, you're stressed. And, well, sex with Jaejoong is sounding more and more like the perfect solution to all your troubles. Not that it never fixes things, because it does. You love his body, the things only he can do to you, taking advantage of his every weakness… you could go on and on.  
  
He doesn't let you get out of the chair, pulling your shirt off, lips on your throat right away. You moan, but you don't let him have all the fun: taking advantage of his distraction, you reach down to slip your hand under the waistband of his boxers. You're filled with satisfaction when he moans; he starts pushing his hips forward, looking for more friction, so you give it to him, slipping his underwear down and taking control.  
  
"Oh, god," he moans, lips on your throat. "Don't stop."  
 _  
_"I won't," you promise, doubling your efforts. He cries out, and then his body goes taut, wetness seeping into your t-shirt as he trembles in your arms.  
  
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he mutters against your skin. "Bed, now!"  
  
Somehow, he manages to get off you and pulls you along to the bedroom. He sits down on the bed and allows you to pull off his boxers, before helping you get rid of your own clothes. You need no other invitation to jump on him and cover his body, kissing his lips, his neck, every part of his body you can reach. Jaejoong doesn't stay still, until you're almost wrestling for dominance—even though he has already decided what he wants, and you are not at all inclined to deny him—and finally pin him down.  
  
"Here," he urges, handing you the lube. It takes nothing to get him ready. He bites his lower lip to keep from crying out, but you can tell that he's so into your lovemaking he could easily forget himself. A part of you wants him to let go, to utter every cry, every moan (the neighbors wouldn't appreciate it, though; they already look at you funny for living together).  
  
Suddenly, he reaches out to bring you close enough to kiss you hard. It forces him into a rather uncomfortable position, but he doesn't seem to care. He keeps you close, until he reaches climax; his body relaxes, and he looks up at you, watching you, until you follow.   
  
His body is warm and perfect, his arms wrapping around you immediately.  
  
"Sleep," he urges, surely hoping this moment of relaxation lasts just a bit longer.  
  
"But, work…"  
  
"Later." His tone leaves no room for discussion. Oh, why not? You haven't had this in so long, and you deserve a few hours of rest.  
  
He sighs, allowing you space to get comfortable before wrapping himself around you again. Even as you start falling asleep, you hear his voice.  
  
"Don't listen to them," he says, so softly it’s almost inaudible. "No matter what, I am never leaving you again."

**Title: Amazing**  
  
"The stars are brighter than usual tonight, aren't they?" he asks dreamily, turning around and around in circles while looking up at the night sky. You want to tell him to stop—not only has he been drinking heavily tonight, he also ate snacks like you were going to run out—but he looks too beautiful out there, lost in his special little world.  
  
"Yeah," you agree, without even bothering to look up at the sky. Who cares about the sky and the stars? They will always be there. This moment, however, will happen now and only now, and then it will be over; you will have nothing but a memory. It is such a sad reality. Someday this will all be over, no more trips to the beach, no more being together in his old car. Yes, the future will be even better: you will be together until the end of time. Yet, this moment, it will be gone, gone, gone, every second, minute, hour you sit here…  
  
"I wanted to be an astronaut once!" he says out of nowhere. You look at him, and there he is, still going 'round and 'round, though he slows his pace. "The best part? No people up there! But there are aliens! I've seen aliens, have you ever seen aliens?"  
  
Of course you haven't, and you're sure he hasn't, either.  
  
"No," you answer, your mood lighting up somewhat. "Are they ugly like in the movies?" He snorts, finally stops moving, but is now unsteady on his feet, knees buckling.  
  
"No, they are beautiful," he answers with a smile. "Like the stars."  
 _  
_"That's boring," you say, if only to make him pout. Ah, there it is, the first sign of annoyance.  
  
"No, it isn't!" He has that look of determination that signals you won't win the argument. After all, he has seen the aliens; you have not. "They are tall," he goes on, dreamy-eyed. "And bright, like angels."  
  
You want to tell him that aliens don't exist, that he probably dreamed it all up, but he looks so happy. All happy and innocent, though you suspect he is not. But, in the end, what is innocence? Purity? Of what? Of mind, heart, body? No, it's something more than that, but you don't know what. You don't know anything.  
  
"There's nothing more beautiful," he says, dreamily.  
  
"What?" What were you talking about? Besides, what is more beautiful than Jaejoong himself?  
  
He laughs, coming up to you. He kneels, wearing that happy, innocent smile of his, and pushes you down to lie on the sand. Then he lies beside you, holding your hand, intertwining your fingers.  
  
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asks. What is? The sky? The world? This special place you can almost call home?  
  
"Yeah. Beautiful."


	25. Chapter 25

**Title: Again  
** **  
** _"Is it really all right with you?"_  
  
You sit out in the balcony, a bottle of _something_ in your hand. You don't really care what it is, as long as it makes you feel good. It burns while going down your throat and sometimes makes you choke a little, but that's fine. Burning is good, it is. It makes you feel. Alive. Or something.   
  
The weather has been cooler lately, one of the first indicators that winter isn't far off. You used to hate winter; it used to be a painful reminder of all the things you didn't and couldn't have.   
  
Now, this year, you should be ecstatic. After all, you have everything you ever wanted: Jaejoong sharing your apartment, sleeping in your bed every night (well, most nights), his eyes filled with that lovely, yet mischievous gleam you loved all those years ago. His quiet and nearly lifeless personality seems to have vanished; now, he is… lively (if you have to pick an adjective), happy, flirty, much like his old self. However, he isn't taking the same risks he used to (to your knowledge).  
  
 _I need to trust him_ , you tell yourself several times a day, whenever you can't get him out of your mind—which seems to be more and more often lately.  
  
Take tonight, for example. You got home after ten and after a particularly horrible day at work, too. You could have done with some talking or just some company, no matter how brief. However, he wasn't there. It's worse on the weekends, when you've made plans and promises, only to have his cell phone play that specific ring tone, and all is shot to hell. As of two weeks or so ago, you finally stopped asking questions.  
  
"Trust me," he will say, in that wonderful, soothing voice. "I'm not going anywhere."   
  
Anyway, back to tonight. You were tired and hungry, but you lost your appetite the moment you realized the apartment was empty. The meal carefully prepared and set on the table, covered in protective plastic, was left untouched. Instead, you grabbed a couple of bottles from your ever-growing liquor cabinet and sat outside, on the uncomfortable chair you really should replace soon, propping your feet on its matching companion.  
  
You have been doing rather well during the last hour or so, in your opinion, when your cell phone rings, over and over and over. It takes a few tries, but you finally get your phone to your ear.  
  
"You're drunk," Junsu deduces after exchanging a few words.  
  
"Yeah, I'm busy," you reply, unable to hide how irritated the unwelcome intrusion makes you feel. "Did you need something?"   
  
"I was just worried," Junsu replies, tone somewhat subdued. "I met Jaejoong in the elevator earlier. I was just wondering if he'd returned home."   
  
_You know he hasn't_ , you want to say, but mask the passing answer with indifference. "He'll be home soon," you reply, instead. Junsu sighs.  
  
"Is it really all right with you?" he asks. "How he just disappears and…"   
  
Of course it isn't all right! You want to scream at your friend, maybe throw the bottle in your hand at him. Still, you force yourself to calm down.  
  
"I trust him," you say (you lie). You gulp down some more liquor. Ah, there it is, that calm place you were in before this stupid phone call. "Look, I really need to get to sleep. Long day tomorrow."  
  
Junsu agrees, albeit reluctantly, and then you're finally alone again, in your empty balcony—save for those two ferns Jaejoong loves so much—in your empty apartment. You snort and raise your bottle the ferns' way.  
  
"To being quiet, mindless beings who can't feel. Cheers!"   
  
You chug down some more liquor.  
  
It isn't long before sleep finally claims you.  
  
  
 **Title: Daze**  
  
"It's just like dancing."  
  
You look up from your history textbook (because there is homework to be done, whether you like it or not), your elbows sore from leaning over the desk for far too long. He's in your bed, on his back, dazedly staring up at the ceiling.  
  
"What is?" you ask when you realize he won't go on without prompting.  
  
You aren't surprised when he doesn't answer. Instead, he lets out a giggle and extends his arm toward you.  
  
"Worship me," he demands. Your father will be home in less than an hour, and you really must finish your homework. You shouldn't even be considering this. But then he whines softly, eyes filled with amusement and need… Would it really be so bad?  
  
He laughs when you pounce and straddle his hips before you take off your shirt.  
  
"Skinny little kid," he teases you, but you're used to it—it's an endearment of sorts.  
  
"Oh, yeah, 'cause you're so buff," you snap back, leaning down and sucking on his lower lip. He laughs, the sound vibrating against your mouth.  
  
You groan when he suddenly grabs you through your shorts, his warm hand cupping you. The sensations take a hold of you; you can't help but close your eyes, unwilling to miss every little feeling. You're already hard and panting—you can feel his erection underneath you—when you finally manage to open your eyes. You find him watching you, deep brown eyes hooded with desire, biting his lower lip.  
  
At once, you want to kiss him, you want to take this one step further, but he stops you, slightly shaking his head.  
  
"I want to see you like this." The rush that follows surprises you. You have never felt so wanted, so… desired, and now, the way he watches you, so focused on your face, on your heaving chest…  
  
He teases at the head of your erection, before he licks the palm of his hand and grasps you, pumping with swift and determined motions. You're lost in the pleasure of it, his motions, the force behind your every action. When your eyes close, you curse them; you want to know what he looks like now, still watching you (worshipping _you_ ).  
  
Your body betrays you, though; you can only fall on the bed beside him, let him pull you close for a wet kiss, swallowing his gasps as he brings himself to orgasm.  
  
  
 **Title: Ribbons**  
  
"Jeez, again?" you complain, like you always do, but you still pick up the discarded piece of clothing off the floor. How completely unlike Jaejoong. He's almost as fastidious as you when it comes to cleaning—except for the dishes, you both despise doing them.  
  
Anyway, right now you find yourself holding a satiny shirt, like those you have seen in those stupid fashion magazines and catalogues the office keeps around for reference material. You've never been into fashion, not really, but it's still easy to recognize the clothing item and the store it likely came from.  
  
 _He's probably doing well at his new job_ , you reason (as you often do), before putting the shirt away in your boyfriend's side of the closet. Looking at both your wardrobes, you realize just how boring you are. Your side is filled with suits you use for work; otherwise, you can find flashes of color here and there, but black and gray and drab would best describe it. In contrast, Jaejoong's wardrobe is a mess of colors: red, purple, black, green, turquoise, black and some more black, all of which will likely go together in some fabulous yet not quite flashy outfit created by self-proclaimed fashion genius, Kim Jaejoong.   
  
Jaejoong comes home with new purchases every few days, especially boots. He loves boots (more than he loves you, you suspect childishly) and he goes on about how they were on sale and he just had to have them. You can still remember his complaints about too expensive boots when you were kids, so you say nothing, allowing him the happiness of finally owning things he has wanted for so long.  
  
"Aren't they beautiful?" he gushes over them. You just smile and nod in agreement.  
  
His new fashion choices don't go unnoticed by your friends. They ask about this and that shirt, especially Changmin, who is so good at hiding his intentions with little effort. You just escape the conversations, busy "all of a sudden," answering a call from work that you absolutely cannot ignore, or otherwise listening to Yunho or Hyukjae, safely staying out of earshot and line of sight. Out of sight, out of mind. Or something.  
  
  
One night, you come home to find a team of workers putting the living room furniture back in its proper place. They're all leaving with polite goodbyes, when you realize with a start that the living room walls are no longer light blue—they have been painted violet. Jaejoong is standing in the middle of the room, absolutely beaming as he holds a recently purchased green cushion close to his chest.  
  
"Well, what do you think?" he asks, excitement making him shake all over.  
  
You feel so tired, so drained after another terrible day, that you only manage a pathetic, "That's nice," before heading straight for bed.  
  
  
Heeyoung, Jaejoong's nurse, appears increasingly worried as days pass. However, she assures you that the older man is taking his medication.  
  
"Maybe you should take him back to the doctor," she suggests. "Could be he needs an increase in dosage."  
  
You're so tired, though, so exhausted by work and worry and stress and life, that you're sure you will explode one of these days.  
  
Therefore, it's easier to ignore it, easy to accept the meals Jaejoong so enjoys cooking, the changes in the apartment, his new clothes, the disappearances.  
  
All of it.  
  
It certainly becomes even easier when you drown it all in a bottle. Every night, out in the balcony, you think you can feel your lover tipping the bottle further up, holding it in place, until you drown in a sea of alcohol.  
  
  
 **Title: Chances**  
  
"Woo-hoo!!!! Yeahhhh!!!!!"  
  
He opens the passenger door window and slides out up to his waist, screaming happily as the wind beats at his skin. Meanwhile, you pull at his clothes desperately, driving that beat up and unsteady car while trying to keep your eyes on the road. An eternity seems to pass, of him yelling out in freedom, and you in terror.  
  
Finally, he slips back inside the car.  
  
"Man, what a rush!" he declares, laughing happily. His cheeks and nose are red, and his hair is a mess, but he doesn't care (as usual). "You should try it sometime."  
  
You frown.  
  
"No way!"   
  
"Chicken!" He bursts out laughing when you glare.  
  
After that, you both fall silent. You're surprised by it—he seemed to be in one of his happy moods tonight. However, he just slides down in his seat until the side of his face rests against the open window ledge. _Dangerous_ , you think at once. At the same time, though, you can't stop thinking just how beautiful he looks, the wind mussing up his dark hair, eyes bright and… alive.  
  
"Hey," he speaks, suddenly. "Why don't we just go on driving? See where the road takes us?"  
  
It isn't the first time he has suggested it. There's something about the way he says it, though; you don't feel like saying no.  
  
As though in answer, you step on the accelerator, willing to face anything, just as long as he's by your side.  
  
  
 **Title: Flight**  
  
 _"Whatever makes him happy, makes_ me _happy, too."_  
  
Junsu likes parties, always has. Once upon a time, a young, university-aged Park Yoochun had hated them, yet put up with them, because they made his then boyfriend happy. It is also a fact that Jaejoong also loves parties, perhaps far more than Junsu ever will. The pale-skinned man keeps pulling Yunho into the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room, showing off his moves— _their_ moves—probably perfected after so many years together.  
  
Part of you wishes you could join in the festivities—Junsu's idea, as always trying to get you to unwind and come out of that shell you have retreated into and refuse to come out of—but the other, more honest part of your psyche, is perfectly happy to sit out in the balcony and ignore everyone. Out here, you can take a break from the never-ending questions and "advice."  
  
"You should demand answers," Changmin will say, brown eyes filled with worry and pain. However, you refuse to listen, time and time again. Confronting your lover will lead to one thing and one thing only: his choice to disappear from your life once more. You don't think you could survive it, not again.  
  
 _Death would be the only way out_ , you think to yourself whenever the idea pops up in your busy, overcharged mind. After so much time together, after all the sacrifices, you would rather just die.  
  
"Here you are." When you look up, Hyukjae is closing the sliding door behind himself. He sits next to you on the floor—Junsu will probably be a pain about stains, but who cares? It's not like he usually does the laundry, anyway. "Wine?" the dancer offers, showing you a full bottle of red wine. You present your empty glass; he fills it.  
  
"Getting boring in there?" you question him. There's no other reason he would be outside with you, of all people. However, he just smiles as he shakes his head.  
  
"Actually, it's pretty lively in there," he answers. "A bit too lively for me, actually."  
  
"I thought you loved parties." He shrugs.  
  
"Whatever makes him happy makes _me_ happy, too." He smirks.  
  
It takes far too long for the implication of those words to finally dawn on you. You cough, far more dramatically than warranted.  
  
"Dude, warn a guy, will you?" He just grins, clearly enjoying your discomfort.  
  
You drink together for a while, the music coming from inside not quite as bothersome as you had initially feared.  
  
"How are things going with him?" he asks, breaking the silence. You don't need for him to clarify who he means.  
  
"They're going," you reply with a shrug.  
  
Hyukjae sighs, one of those impatient sighs you've heard from Junsu far too many times.  
  
"Ignoring the problem won't make it go away, you know," he says. Hyukjae isn't the most serious of guys, usually choosing to joke around and keep the peace, a self-appointed class clown. Right now, though, he's the person making the most sense this evening. Maybe ever. Junsu and the others try to help but only manage to make you feel even more uncertain, confused, and miserable; Jaejoong makes you feel helpless and… many other things, among which "stupid" is included.  
  
You don't have to see him right now to know that he's having fun tonight, the most he has in what seems like forever. Inviting some of Junsu's old friends has proven to be just what the doctor ordered. Despite your own unhappiness, you know that coming over was the best course of action. However…  
  
"What if choosing not to ignore the problem causes it to disappear altogether?" you chance. Hyukjae gives you a sad smile.  
  
"You know that saying, 'if you love something, set it free; if it returns to you, it's yours'?" You nod. "How many times have you let him go? How many times has he come back?"  
  
You stare at him, amazed.  
  
"We don't appreciate you half as much as we should," you tell him and even mean it. He shrugs, grinning.  
  
"Damn right." He raises the bottle and refills your glasses. "Come on. A toast to men who are nothing but trouble, yet worth every minute of it."  
  
You snort softly and raise your glass.  
  
  
 **Title: Thrice**  
  
"That party sure put some things into perspective," Jaejoong says. He starts taking off his clothes as he walks into the living room; as always, you pick up after him.  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"We're getting damn old."  
  
"Speak for yourself," you protest at once.  
  
Surprised, he stares at you. You stare at him. Before you know it, you're both doubled over in laughter. Of all the things he could have said about the party, that was certainly not one of them; and, rather obviously, he didn't expect such a Jaejoong-like retort to leave your lips. You lean against the wall, his shirt draped over your arm.  
  
"Say that when we're in our sixties," you tell him. He stares at you, dark gaze unreadable, like when he's trying to figure you out.  
  
"Will you still be here? When I'm sixty?"  
  
You can't help but smile gently at the uncertainty in his voice.  
  
"Unless a truck runs me over or I meet some other form of gruesome death, I can assure you…" You pause, still smiling, trying to pour all your love into every word. "I will definitely still be here. You will never be rid of me."  
  
The smile that widens his full lips makes your knees go weak. It reminds you of a younger version of him in his happiest moments, the version of him you first fell in love with. His dark gaze holds yours; you both stand there, smiling like you're the only people on Earth (maybe you are).

He nearly pounces on you, devouring your mouth, kissing you until he takes your breath away. He's still half-dressed, his chest and back entirely bare and warm and wonderful under your hands. Your senses are all attuned to him, so much that you don't notice he has led you to the bedroom until you find yourself on your back on his side of the bed. He straddles your waist, leaning down to kiss you again and again, acting just like the passionate man who used to make you shiver with just a glance.  
  
 _He's still the same man_ , you remind yourself, even as mismatched scarves appear from nowhere and then pale hands start fastening your wrists to the bedposts. At once, you have to make an effort to find some excuse to refuse, entirely uncomfortable with the idea of feeling helpless—even in his arms.  
  
 _"_ I'll make you feel good," he promises in his most seductive voice. It's enough to calm your nerves, so you let go… until you hear it, a nearly inaudible clacking of hard plastic against plastic.  
  
"What is that?" you ask, at once. Jaejoong leans down to kiss you, clearly trying to distract you, but you don't give in, feeling under the mattress, until you find a tear, and then an opening. He sighs and gets off you, shoulders tense, as though bracing himself.  
  
"Your pills," you say, recognizing the cylindrical bottles and the colorful tablets inside them. "You haven't been taking them." You don't know what's worse: knowing that he has been lying to you so baldly, or that you wanted for him to be who he used to be so desperately that you chose not to question what was so obviously happening.   
  
"How long?" you ask, voice small even as you hold the plastic bag containing several months' worth of medication. Sitting on the other end of the bed, head bowed, he shrugs.  
  
"Five, six months," he admits.  
  
You close your eyes, hating yourself. You want to scream, yell; you want to blame him for every terrible thing that has happened to you the last five, ten years of your life. Except you can't. You knew, when you let him in, you _knew_.  
  
"You should have told me," you go on, knowing that you sound accusatory, but not really caring. He shrugs again, hurt and anger beginning to swirl in his dark eyes.  
  
"I'll leave," he says sharply. You shake your head. Regardless, he stands and walks up to the closet, grabbing a large duffel bag and filling it with his clothes.  
  
"This isn't the answer," you tell him, though you aren't sure of that yourself. You stand up, the plastic bag of pills in your hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
He glares at you.  
  
"Because I hate them!" He sounds like his true self for the first time in what seems like forever. "I am not some pathetic, lazy, disgusting person who can barely take care of himself. At least this way, I can work, I can be useful, I can even _fuck_ you, or have you not realized that, yet?"  
  
"This is still not the answer!" You scream, throwing the bag of pills at the carpeted floor. "Leaving is never, ever the answer!"  
  
"Then what am I supposed to do?" He looks so hurt, so angry, yet vulnerable, kneeling on the floor. "If I stay, I hurt you. I'd rather not do that. So, please, just let me go. Have your life back."  
  
Finally, you lose it. You want to break something, so you do, grabbing the lamp on your side of the bed and throwing it at the wall. The ceramic shatters into smaller pieces, blue fragments shimmering under the dim light.  
  
"Don't go," you repeat, chest heaving, barely able to get those words past your lips.   
  
"What else am I supposed to do?" he asks, sounding small. Is he scared of you now? You hate the thought of that, but, if you hadn't, if you hadn't hurt the stupid, fucking lamp…  
  
 _"You can't just run away every time things get tough!"_ you scream at him. You have thought it, so many, many times, but you have never been strong enough to say it, always weak to his words, to his kisses. Later, you knew he couldn't leave, he depended on you; that gave you all the security you needed. This time, however, he's on the floor, a bag next to him, shirts and pants and shoes thrown in haphazardly.  
  
 _"Fuck you!"_ he explodes at you. You didn't know what you were expecting, but uncontrolled fury wasn't it. You're angry at him, the angriest you have ever been, and that's really saying something. "You knew, when you chose to keep me, you knew this is what I'm like!" His voice sounds raw, almost desperate. "You know I hate taking that stupid medication. You fucking knew!"  
  
The anger comes back tenfold.  
  
"I'm not the one who picks up and disappears every time he can't deal with reality! " You yell back. "I'm here, I always have been. If that isn't enough of an indication of just how devoted I am to you, I don't know what else it is! "

You stand across the room from him, chest heaving, heart aching. There are so many things you want to tell him, all about the anger and sorrow and pain you've held inside for so long, but your throat feels constricted; surely you will choke if you try.

_I've always been here_ , you think at him. _I've always wanted you to stay with me. It has always been_ your _choice. What is it that you want? What is it that you need that I can't…?_

Oh.

The air rushes out of you, taking away the rage, pain, hurt— _everything_ —with it. You feel empty, hollow.

"Is that it? I'm not enough?" you ask, voice small. "I can't give you whatever it is you want, that's why…" You close your eyes, hoping you'll stop trembling. Fuck, you already knew it. Using you, toying with your feelings, giving you hope, over and over. And you, how naïve you've been. You wanted to believe he loved you. Now you know: he doesn't, he never has.

"I'm tired," you admit. "I am so fucking tired it's a damn miracle I haven't offed myself already. "  
  
You collapse, sitting on the bed. Your body feels so heavy, you're so exhausted. If you could, you would lie down and forget everything. But you can't. This has gone on long enough; it needs to be done and over with.   
  
"If you don't want this, just end it, _please_." Your breath shakes; a few tears fall. "Just put this to rest so we can move on," you plead. "I'll… move somewhere else, far away, start fresh. And you can finally be rid of me. "  
  
Silence falls around you. Jaejoong just stays there, kneeling on the floor, the duffel bag open next to him, clothes spilling out. He parts his lips (the same lips that kissed you passionately only minutes ago) to speak, but you don't stay and listen. Needing some time, some space, desperate to move (to _feel_ ), you grab your jacket and car keys, and leave the apartment, taking the stairs instead of the elevator. You don't want distractions, you don't want anything that will make you change your mind.  
  
Once in your car, you drive, far, far away from home.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!** Please mind the tags!

**Title: Through**  
  
"You can go to hell for all I care."  
  
You stare at him for what seem like several minutes, yet you know that only a few seconds pass. Jaejoong looks angry, a complete change from his relentless apathy for the better part of two weeks. You bore with it, of course—he's your boyfriend, the boy you love, whether crazy or… crazy. Because that is what he is. Even now, his brown eyes cold and cruel, his beautiful features twisted into a scowl, he is acting like a crazy idiot, pushing you away. Again.  
  
"Are we doing this again?" you ask. You know you sound cold, indifferent, but you don't care. How else can you deal with him?  
  
"Fuck you," he growls. "'Again'? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"It means what it means," you reply.  
  
Abruptly, he gets up from the bench and grabs his backpack.  
  
"Seriously, fuck off!" he says, visibly angry… and hurt?  
  
You watch him walk away from you, leaving you standing in the park, alone. Like the idiot you are.  
  
" _You_ go to hell," you mutter. At once, you head home.  
  
Why do you put up with him? With his mood swings and everything he makes you go through? Every day, you wonder, only to remind yourself that he is the way he is, and, really, you wouldn't have him any other way. Except for today, today he has been complete prick.  
  
First, he went to school without you. You waited nearly fifteen minutes, figuring that he was late. However, you didn't want to be late, so you forgot him and headed over, only to find him at school. He was whispering secretively with one of those guys he talks to on occasion.  
  
When he finally noticed you, his expression turned blank.  
  
_What the hell?_ He had been planning on ignoring you, you realized at once. You didn't let him, though, following him around and after school, much like he did when you first met.  
  
You were following him across the park when he finally turned around and faced you. He sat on one of the benches to wait until you were close enough to listen to him.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he growled. A rather bitter and angry exchange followed, then ended with him sending you to hell (he seems to love the place. Asshole.) and looking at you like you had kicked his (nonexistent) puppy.  
  
As soon as you arrive home, you go to your room and throw yourself in bed. Who cares if Jaejoong is having another weird mood swing? You don't need to put up with it. Why should you?  
  
*****  
  
Five days have passed, five long days during which he has completely ignored you. That's fine, you think, great, in fact. He can be crazy all he wants, and you can be free, blissfully so (never mind that you feel lonely without him; everything seems cold and empty. Even watching your favorite drama feels pointless).  
  
Today, you went to school, then came back home right after. You had dinner early. The rest of the evening you have been lying in bed doing nothing. Like the moron you are. It's nearly midnight and you haven't even moved.  
  
"I hate myself," you mutter into your pillow.  
  
A clink on your window wakes you up just as you are finally falling asleep. Could it be?  
  
You sit up in bed and glance at the window; there he is, your idiot boyfriend who has ignored you for nearly a week. He looks… like his normal self.  
  
"Hey," he greets you with a happy smile when you open the window. "Come on, let's go to the beach!"  
  
You stare at him, at his weirdly happy demeanor. You open your mouth to accuse him, but then think better of it. Oh, well.  
  
"Give me five minutes," you say. He grins and leaves. You get dressed and follow him. Like the moron you are.  
  
  
**Title: Outside**  
  
_"I'm not enough?"_  
  
You have been driving for hours, aimlessly, doing your best to get as far away as you can from home. From reality.  
  
_"Is that it?"_  
  
Your own words haunt you, you can't get them out of your mind, nor can you forget the sight of him kneeling on the floor, watching you almost fearfully. You didn't mean to scare him; you were just so angry and desperate. How could you not be? He has been lying for months, hiding the medication he promised to take. You hate your life, but you bear it, because that is how you can protect him: giving him a home and the care he needs. Now you've found out that none of it matters. Jaejoong doesn't care.  
  
"Damn it," you curse, angrily. What have you been working for all this time? Years you have thought about him, tried to give him what he needs, and for what?  
  
Now you are absolutely certain that he has reverted back to the old Jaejoong: careless, mindless, and crazy, the Jaejoong that takes risks regardless of the consequences. And he did it for _you?_ What a joke! He did it for himself, because he is a selfish prick, a crazy, careless, and selfish asshole who cares about nothing and no one but himself. Even you; you're just convenient. He needed someone and you were there, his willing slave. Who cares that you have given him everything and then some? What does it matter that you're mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted? You are no masochist, no matter what your friends think.  
  
"You're spreading yourself thin," Yunho has remarked more than once. "You'll collapse. Who will take care of you then? Of him?"  
  
"Do you think I don't know that!?" you scream now. He isn't here (not that you want him to be), but how you have wanted to scream at him, hit him until all the anger and frustration finally abates. However, he is your friend, so most days you swallow down your feelings and shrug, like none of it matters.  
  
Pathetic tears fall, but you let them. Maybe you'll feel better if you cry, maybe the pressure inside your chest will lessen.  
  
"God, I'm so tired," you whisper to yourself. Everything hurts. You're so angry, so sad, and miserable; you just want to disappear. It would be so easy to step on the accelerator and let go, until you hit something—another car, a tree, a truck—and death finally finds you. So easy. It would be. You could do it now, in the cover of night, just… let go.  
  
The phone rings again. It has been ringing incessantly since you left the apartment; every few minutes, _he_ calls, and lets it ring and ring and ring. It drives you crazy. You glare at the device laying on the passenger's seat. You should turn it off, so you can't hear that song he loves so much, the one you chose for his personal ringer just because it made him smile.  
  
"Stupid," you mutter. "You are such an idiot. Always believing in him, even though he has disappointed you over and over again. Will you never learn!?" You scream at yourself. "When the fuck will you learn? He is _not_ normal, he does _not_ love you. Why do you keep holding on to him? He isn't yours, he never will be, you fucking idiot!"  
  
The phone rings and rings again, over and over, that stupid song, that stupid, annoying melody grating on your nerves until you finally explode.  
  
"Shut up!" you yell at it. "Stop calling me, damn it!"  
  
It only rings again.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
You pull over on the side of the road, grab the phone and step out of the car. The loud crack it makes when you hurl it at the asphalt is wonderfully satisfying. Stupid phone, making your life even worse than it already is. It makes pathetic little sounds when you stomp on it, over and over again, until only pieces remain, tiny pieces of broken plastic.  
  
You take a deep breath and exhale, already feeling better. Finally, you can breathe. You get into your car once again, slam the door shut and drive away, the silence easing your troubled mind.  
  
  
**Title: Inside**  
  
"You're an idiot," he says and laughs hysterically.  
  
Anger fills you, but you push it down. He needs the levity, you noticed the instant you laid eyes on him. Three days had passed since you'd last seen him, but now he's here, in your bedroom. He looks tired, dark rings around his eyes; his hair looks dirty and unkempt. Has he even showered recently? His eyes are filled with desperation, though. You have to give him what he needs so that he will go back to normal, his dark eyes shining with joy and mischief, until you, too, feel like the world is full of wonder (instead of sadness, bitterness, and disappointment).  
  
"You're my idiot, though," he softens the apparent harshness of his first statement, a tender smile on his lips. Your heart flutters. When he calls you over, you obey, lying next to him in your bed, his body warm and wonderful against yours.  
  
*****  
  
You awake to a low and gray ceiling. Your body aches all over, every muscle screaming as you stretch. You were dreaming about Jaejoong. He was young and beautiful, and as crazy as ever… but, also tired and desperate. Desperate? When did that ever happen?  
  
All thoughts of dreams disappear mere moments later, as soon as you sit up and groan in pain. Your back and waist hurt; you think you hear your bones creak loudly in protest. Cursing under your breath, you look out the window and realize you're in a parking lot. You don't recognize the place. When did you get there?  
  
You lie back again despite your aching body and stare up at the gray felt ceiling. Sleeping in the car, is this what you have been reduced to? Finding a cheap hotel should have been easy, if you had bothered to search. But no, your mind is a mess; it's only fitting that your actions should be, too. To think that you could be home, in your own bed—it _is_ rather expensive, one of the few luxuries you have allowed yourself. And, next to you, _he…_  
  
Suddenly, your stomach growls, loudly. Ah. Food. Right. One or two food joints should be open at six in the morning.  
  
You find a shop and order a simple meal. Your appetite has all but disappeared; still, you need some kind of nourishment. After all, you have no idea where you are; you plan to go on driving, until you feel there is more than enough distance between yourself and your… boyfriend? Life partner? Lover?

You'll miss work, you realize while you eat. Whatever. You might as well forget about it. Why go back to that terrible, painful life? He could be gone from the apartment. Really, you don't want to find out. You plan to wander about, until you find someplace that awards you some semblance of peace. (Maybe you will get your wish and find oblivion.)  
  
Once you're done, you return to the car. There's a gas station nearby, so you fill up the gas tank and move on.  
  
Not much time has passed by when you remember the dream. Young Jaejoong's haunted gaze stays in your mind as you drive. Somehow, you know that the dream is a memory, except you can't remember any of it ever happening, or, rather, being aware of his pain and suffering. Jaejoong was usually happy and euphoric, it's what you remember most—or, perhaps, what you have chosen to remember. Thinking about him was always unbearably painful, even before he ran away that awful night. It doesn't surprise you to realize that you selected all the good times you had together and pushed everything else to the back of your mind. The Jaejoong in your memories almost always wears a smile—whether mocking, senseless, or genuine—and is nothing like the sickly, dirty, desperate, and broken Jaejoong of your dream.  
  
Whenever you look back to your teenage years, only the good things pop up. Somehow, it sickens you a bit that you need to dig deeper to find all of the sadness, anger, despair, and confusion that made up half (or more) of the time you spent with him.  
  
_Does it even matter, though?_ you think, tiredly. He has given you enough negatives in the past few years to last you a lifetime. Yes, you should leave the past alone, remember only the good, because you did have good times, as friends and as lovers.  
  
You aren't sure how much time has passed when you realize that anxiety has crept inside you and you can barely breathe. Your immediate solution: alcohol. You find a store on the way and stock up on your drink of choice, whiskey. Almost as an afterthought, you buy some snacks to keep in the car. And drive on.  
  
Hours pass, and you drink, then drink some more, until your chest stops aching and the memories stop hurting. They don't go away, though, old and recent images of your lover mercilessly assaulting your mind.  
  
  
**Title: Real**  
  
_"What would you do if I died?"_  
  
It's dark, but you hear rain pelting the window panes. You're in your bedroom, lying in bed, your boyfriend in your arms. His presence comforts you more than you could begin to say. How many days has it been since he last came over? Two? You hate it when he disappears, when he goes on radio silence without sending even a simple message. It doesn't matter, though. He's back, he's here. That is all that matters.  
  
He didn't meet your gaze when you opened the door for him earlier. You don't know what to make of that. Is he ashamed of something? The selfish, jealous part of you thinks that he should be. For all you know, he was out meeting those friends you know he hides from you. Friends… and lovers, most likely. You hate him for it; you resent him more for not giving you the reassurances you need. Nevertheless, once he comes back, you receive him and hold him close, lest he disappears once again.  
  
"What would you do if I died?" His voice is nearly drowned by the sound of the heavy rain; you hear him clearly. There is nothing light nor whimsical about the question; there is barely any emotion in his tone.  
  
He should know the answer to that, shouldn't he? How long have you been together already? How many things have you gone through together? If he doesn't understand just how much he means to you by now, then he's more of an idiot than you thought he was. At the same time, a part of you understands that he needs to ask and that he needs an answer.  
  
"What do you think?" you ask back.  
  
*****  
  
It's dark again and beginning to rain. Fitting, you think, remembering all the movies and dramas where rain signifies sadness, loss, heartbreak. You certainly feel all three of those.  
  
You've spent most of the day driving, same as yesterday, just moving around until your car asks for gas; you feed it, and then you move on, driving and driving. The radio plays in the background, unwillingly providing a soundtrack to your melodramatic existence, a mismatch of slow and fast songs, happy and sad. Then the alcohol wears off and you have to stop to take a few more sips from one of the several bottles now keeping you company inside the car. Once you feel relaxed or numb (or both) again, you turn on the ignition and drive on.  
  
You aren't sure how much time has passed since you left home, about two days, you suspect. Not that you really care. With your wonderful companions, Bottle and Radio, you have everything you need.  
  
It's dark outside again, though, and, suddenly, you feel sadness and loneliness creeping back in.  
  
"You're such a crybaby," he would accuse you back when you were younger. The child who cried at dramas and movies, at emotional songs. Well, you were a sensitive boy, what else could you do? Jaejoong never seemed to understand. Then again, you barely saw him cry during your teenage years. He was sad a lot, yes, and talked about death at least once a month, but tears rarely made an appearance. You, on the other hand, would have cried every day if allowed. There was something liberating about it, about letting out strong emotions that felt suffocating otherwise.  
  
Now, the sky is crying for you. Your tears dried up a few miles back, and, thankfully, they don't seem to want to make a comeback. They can fuck off, for all you care. No more tears, no more sadness caused by the selfish jerk that is Kim Jaejoong.  
  
"I miss him," you mutter not a second after. What is he doing? Is he sad? Does he miss you? Has he left the apartment? Gone back to Yunho and eloped with him? Swallowed all the pills and left you irreparably alone? You don't want to think about it; you swallow a few more drops to make sure that you don't.  
  
Leaning back in the driver's seat, you glance out at the dark world surrounding you. There are trees, vegetation, you think—you aren't really sure, and you don't really care, either—and the sky, now covered in purplish pink clouds. Why do clouds look pink at night? Does it even matter? Do _you_ matter?  
  
You sigh, righting your seat and putting on the seatbelt once again. Soon you must find a place to sleep. It's late and you shouldn't be outside. No, you should be home, sleeping next to your chosen life partner instead of sitting in your car, out in the rain.  
  
Shit.  
  
"Shut up," you mutter at your hyperactive mind. After a few more drops, you start the car again. And drive on.  
  
  
**Title: Intention**  
  
_"We'll be happy forever and ever."_  
  
It's early in the morning and you realize, with no small amount of dismay, that you've just driven into your hometown. You thought you would find a hotel or another dark spot to park your car in and sleep. Instead, you were unable to stop, anxiety keeping you wide awake. Now, only a few minutes after daybreak, you notice just how familiar the buildings around you look.  
  
"Fuck," you mutter. Of all the places to go, why did it have to be the town you once used to call home? There are too many memories here, not only of your lover, but of the family life your parents denied you, of lonely nights while your father went out drinking or out with his girlfriends. You wish you could forget about all of it. Normally, you don't hold grudges (unless they're against Jaejoong, or Yunho, and maybe Junsu), but you just can't forgive your family, especially your mother. If she loved you as she claimed, she would have come see you more often, maybe even come back to take you to her home and Yoohwan. If not for Jaejoong, you might have obsessed over that your entire adolescent life.  
  
Come to think of it, the last time you came back home…wasn't it to get Jaejoong back? And, like now, you had also sent your job to hell. The parallels are almost annoying. Only, this time you're not trying to get your lover back, but running away from him.  
  
_Isn't that just adorable_ , your internal voice drips with sarcasm.  
  
You briefly consider driving by your father's house, but quickly decide against it. Considering just how supportive he has been of your life choices, it would be a pain to have to admit to any of your current problems.  
  
"That boy is not normal," he said numerous times after he realized that your relationship with Jaejoong seemed unconventional. He was probably trying to protect you from getting hurt, while you inwardly cursed him for daring to speak ill of the boy you loved.  
  
_Well, Dad, you were right_ , you think at your father now. Oh, how much pain you would have saved yourself if you had listened to him from the very beginning. But no, you knew better; love would conquer all and some such shit.  
  
"We'll be together forever, right?" Jaejoong would promise on the days, weeks, months leading to his first disappearance. "We'll be happy forever and ever." His eyes always looked wild and his mood kept swinging back and forth from happy to depressed and insecure, each emotion in the background, never gone. Still, you followed your instincts, because you believed they could never steer you wrong. If you have learned anything, it's that you can't live life solely on promises, not where Jaejoong is involved.  
  
While driving toward your side of town, you take note of the stores along the streets. There's the tiny hotel you stayed at last time, too. Maybe you should get a room there, lie down for a while, take a shower… Yes, that sounds good.  
  
The lady that runs the place is already at the front desk, and, without much ceremony, rents you a room on the second floor. Sadly, the room is almost an exact replica of the room you stayed in last time. You try to ignore it, getting into the shower.  
  
You had a change of clothes in the car (you didn't even remember you had thrown the duffle bag in the trunk of the car, planning for those long nights at work; they smell a little) so you have something to change into when you come out, feeling refreshed. You don't feel like shaving or anything else. Instead, you lie down in bed and try to rest.  
  
  
**Title: Ugly**  
  
"Unrequited love is sweet torture," he says. "You're left with the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. But then, there's no jealousy, no breakup, no disappointment."  
  
In your dream (because it is a dream, of a memory, but a dream, nonetheless), he looks as pretty as you thought he was at the time. He smoked a lot, and once or twice you imagined him with rotten teeth by the time he was thirty. You know now that it was just your teenage imagination, certain that anything close to age thirty is old. Sometimes, you agree with your adolescent self; you certainly _feel_ old.  
  
Back then, you had thought he was speaking about some girl he couldn't have—ridiculous, you thought; the guy was pretty and perfect, any girl would love to date him. You don't know when it was that, in the following few months, you realized he was talking about you. Of course, back then, he had believed he had no chance with you, which changed little by little not too long later.  
  
_Who's melodramatic?_ You've thought this several times along the years. He was the one sighing and throwing hints about his feelings for you. Once he made his move, you were caught in his trap. Even if you had wanted to, you wouldn't have been able to pull away from him.  
  
Unrequited love. Maybe at the beginning.  
  
"Why do you look so sad?" You can almost feel his lips as he whispers, his warm breath on your ear. After that night at the beach, on your birthday, you had thought it had all been a game, that your feelings _were_ unrequited.  
  
The what-ifs and the could-have-beens. No jealousy, no breakup, no disappointment. Maybe unrequited love would have been better. Surely, the so-called "sweet torture" would be far more bearable than the pain and constant insecurity and stress of a real relationship. With Jaejoong, the "torture" has been anything but sweet.  
  
No, you don't want to remember anything that happened after he left that first time. Coming and going, disrupting your life, feeding angers and insecurities and a myriad of other negative emotions you wish you had never known.  
  
_God, I'm tired_ , you think again, sleepiness beginning to recede. The dream fades away, but not the feelings it elicited. Excitement, fear… It had been thrilling, at the time. At your current age, however, after so many years, you don't think you can deal with it anymore.  
  
You've been sleeping for hours, trying to rest, but not really managing to. All those thoughts running through your head have almost managed to drive you crazy. You thought that spending time alone would help (but you're never really alone, are you? Not when he occupies your mind 24/7). Instead, while your body is heavy with fatigue, you feel restless, wishing you had the energy to burn the anxiety that just won't go away. Maybe another drive would help you clear your mind. Being still just makes everything worse.  
  
The car keys are back in your hand before you realize it.  
  
  
**Title: Shadow**  
  
"You're insane!" you yelled at him, barely audible over the wind. However, he ignored you, stripping down and jumping into the freezing water.  
  
Tonight, many years later, is the water as cold as it was then?  
  
You're sitting against the windshield of your car, drunk after downing yet another bottle (bottles?) of the biting, yet sweet alcohol that has been keeping you company the last few days. The radio is playing loudly enough that you can still hear it despite the roar of the wind. Looking up at the sky, stars blinking at you, it feels every bit like those nights you spent there as a teenager. The music is different now (though you've gotten used to the new stuff thanks to your lover; he turns the radio on nearly every day), new singers, new melodies. Every once in a while, the DJ will play an oldie (God, songs from your adolescent years are already considered "oldies"), some song that will inevitably take you back to some specific past event.  
  
Your teenage love was accompanied by quite the extensive soundtrack: Pop, Rock, Dance, every genre playing on the radio at the time. And Jaejoong had known most of the songs; he seemed to pick up the lyrics easily, and he would sing along every damn song. You always wondered how such a thing was possible: how could someone who did so terribly in school memorize dozens, hundreds of songs? You suppose it's true what they say about people learning the things they enjoy far more quickly than they would anything else. Hell, it makes more than enough sense.  
  
Was there music that night?  
  
"Let's go skinny dipping!" You can almost hear his happy, excited voice in the car as he drove like a maniac, just like you still remember your name when he called through your bedroom window only minutes earlier. By then, you were so used to his sudden appearances (or reappearances) that you had taken to leaving your window unlocked most of the time. However, like every single time before, you had followed, because back then (like now) his word was law and refusing any of his requests felt absurd.  
  
That night was cold, so cold you could barely feel your fingers. The idea of going skinny dipping had not been at all appealing—well, it had, since it meant being naked with _him_ , and hell if your hormones hadn't been driving you crazy with dreams and bits of imagination that just wouldn't leave your mind. Still, it was so cold! How could anyone even consider going into the water? If your parents had ever found out, they would have killed you. Asthma could quickly turn into other, more dangerous health issues. You were so lucky, you think now, that you never got sick during those times.  
  
"Come on!" he called out to you, doing his best to convince you. In the end, you gave in. You always gave in.  
  
That night, the first time he kissed you, the first time you felt his skin against yours, the beginning of a love that doesn't seem to want to end. The problem is, you don't want it to end, not really. Else, why would you have left Changmin for him? Why would you deny yourself new opportunities on the off chance that he would suddenly decide to come back?  
  
"Pathetic," you mutter to yourself. You know that— _he_ knows that—and yet, here you are, drunk, miserable over him one more time. A part of you knows that you should go back, or call him, at least (not that you can, since you destroyed your cell phone, even left the pieces on the side of the road, along with every single phone number you never bothered to memorize). Fear paralyzes you, though, and, you rather like being unable to move (another excuse not to act).  
  
_"What do you think happens after you die?"_ Yes, what happens, you wonder. Maybe you're dead right now and you don't know it. And maybe the water will feel warm and inviting instead of freezing, unlike that night so long ago, or any of the nights that followed.  
  
_"What are you afraid of?"_ Indeed, what are you afraid of?  
  
You get off the car, your bare feet landing on the sand, tiny, grainy stones digging into your skin. The wind is cold on your bare skin when you take your shirt off, just like you remember; it feels funny on your legs now, but that's probably because of the hair covering them now (you giggle drunkenly, amused by the mere thought). Your mind is somewhat fuzzy, but that's fine; all you want is to feel _that_ again, that freezing, yet liberating feeling you could only experience as a naïve high school child.  
  
Decision made, you walk over to shore, cold waves washing over your feet, then your knees, your thighs. Once you're in far enough, you close your eyes, and dive into the water. It envelops you, fills your ears, takes you in deeper until there exists nothing else. You smile.  
  
_See nothing. Hear nothing. Feel nothing._


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! Please mind the tags!

**Title: Hush**  
  
 _What would you do if I died?_  
  
It's cold, freezing, yet you barely register it. Maybe it's your limbs becoming numb, nerves tingling as you dive deeper and deeper beneath the waves. Maybe it's _you_ becoming numb, dead, inside and outside and everywhere. You're so tired of everything, of breathing, of living.  
  
 _I should die_ , you think. _I want to die._  
  
The dark and the cold envelop you, but you aren't uncomfortable. Many times, you have thought of this, exactly this: being in a state where you hear nothing, see nothing, _feel_ nothing; a few more seconds (or minutes?), and you will cease to exist. The small part of you that remains rational laughs at your misery, at your desire to end the pain that has followed you for so long.  
  
 _You're so pathetic_ , it says (you quietly agree).  
  
The darkness is lonely, but that isn't new. When haven't you felt lonely in the past, oh, twenty years? You felt abandoned by your family; later, you were abandoned by _him_. No, even before he left, other people left you. Didn't loneliness lead you to start dating in the first place?  
  
 _No, that was normal_ , you think even now.  
  
What was so normal about constantly "falling in love"? How old were you the first time you thought you fell in love? Thirteen? And the girl (you can't recall her name) said yes, because you were kids and stupid. It didn't last two weeks. How many girls did you "fall in love" with after? Three? Four? Until you found _her_.  
  
You have always been stupidly devoted to the people you love. When she showed up, she was the girl of your supposed dreams: pretty, fun, kind; she liked the same music and dramas you liked. Of course, that ended in a couple of months. The memory still hurts, for some reason.  
  
 _I won't fall in love ever again,_ you promised then, because that's what you do: you get your heart broken and make stupid, unrealistic promises.  
  
 _Don't feel_ , you tell yourself now. None of it matters. In the absolute darkness, in that lonely space that holds nothing, that's where you want to be.  
  
 _But I don't want to be at all._  
  
For a moment, it seems as though your mind listens to you. There's nothing, just the roaring noise of the water in your ears. And the dark, a seemingly dark void where nothing exists (not even you).  
  
 _"Call me Hyung!"_ the memory of his voice comes unbidden. He made such a demand more than once, many times after the first time he followed you home. If you hadn't been distraught, you may have confronted him, but you didn't. You felt lonely and useless and worthless, and he was there, his dark eyes perpetually focused on you. Friendship didn't even seem like a possibility, but he called out to you; eventually, you needed to answer.  
  
 _"You're insane!"_ you would say with painful regularity. He would always laugh and say "eccentric" sounded better.  
  
 _He_ is _insane_ , you think now. It has nothing to do with his illness and everything to do with his decisions. (Are they separate or one and the same?)  
  
You didn't fall in love with him immediately. Actually, how did that even happen? Because once you loved him, you did with every fiber of your being. After that first kiss and the ones that followed, you wondered how you were able to breathe—let alone survive—without him. His eccentricities didn't matter. That he was flighty and unpredictable and disappeared for days on end were all part of the package, and you were willing to accept him—you _did_ accept him. Your younger self stopped thinking that any of his shortcomings were deal breakers; you were going to move in with him despite all of it, for heaven's sake. You loved him—you _love_ him _now_ —and that was enough.  
  
When did you start questioning everything he did? When did you start beating yourself up over your "useless" feelings for him? When did Jaejoong's presence and affection become not enough?  
  
 _What has changed?_  
  
Your eyes fly open. Seawater stings your eyes, yet you make no effort to close them again. The darkness is enveloping you. It feels cold. You can't breathe.  
  
 _What would you do if I died?_ His voice speaks clearly in your memories.  
  
 _I'm dying_ , you think now. Earlier, the thought brought you peace of mind. Now, you panic; your chest hurts; you look up, but the surface seems so far away. You try to claw your way up, but water is filling up your lungs, everything hurts. The darkness is here, you realize, it has come and you can do nothing but succumb to it.

**Title: Between**  
  
 _"I'm so sorry, Yoochun."_  
  
It's quiet. The dull, painful pressure inside you and around you seems to be gone. Nevertheless, it's still freezing cold (you wonder if you'll ever feel warm again). The roar of the water in your ears has disappeared, you realize. Your eyelids feel heavy; could you open your eyes if you tried? Maybe you have died, and this is your punishment: remaining in the darkness, numb, until the end of time.  
  
"Shit." The word is followed by sniffling. Someone is crying near you. Somehow, you find the strength to open your eyes a sliver.  
  
You're lying on a bed, in a room with white walls. There's something covering your nose and mouth; you feel something (a tube?) going down your throat. You think you hear short, soft beeps. It reminds you of _his_ hospital room after his suicide attempt. Sterile. Empty. Almost immediately, you become aware of a dull pain in your chest, and you realize it: you're alive. How?  
  
 _Why?_  
  
Just as the thought comes, it goes; your eyelids close and you fall asleep.  
  
  
  
The pain is still there when you next open your eyes.  
  
 _I'm still alive_ , you figure. The (apparent) fact doesn't make you happy. Well, it isn't like you feel anything right now, except for that awful, steady pain in your chest. It reminds you of the asthma attacks back when you were a child, but much, much worse.  
  
"You're awake," a familiar voice speaks to your right. "Are you thirsty?"  
  
Immediately, you feel parched. Your mouth feels like something crawled in there and died, just like when you wake up with those killer hangovers…  
  
The thing covering half your face is removed and a large, strong hand supports the back of your head. You feel something thin and plastic touch your lips…oh, a straw. Drinking comes naturally, automatically, though you choke a bit. Why are you so damn thirsty?  
  
"All right?" Somehow, you find the strength to nod in assent. The straw is taken away. The hand remains for a moment, before letting go. Almost immediately, you feel the oxygen mask back on.  
  
Your eyes barely open, you look to your left. Your father is standing there, looking down at you with sorrow-filled eyes. He smiles sadly, patting the top of your head.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
 _Empty_ , you want to tell him, but no words come out. The tiredness remains. Your entire body feels heavy.  
  
"It's okay," he assures you.  
  
You think you nod as your eyes close once again.  
  
  
  
The room is still that uncomfortable off-white. You don't like white. White is the absence of life, or is it black? You don't remember anymore. The lighting feels different; you feel warmer—maybe someone gave you an extra blanket? —but the beeping is the same. Your chest still feels as if you'd had a major asthma attack, but much worse (the oxygen mask reminds you of childhood days spent in the hospital getting emergency asthma treatment).  
  
"Yoochun?" the tone is questioning, hesitant. Somehow, you turn your head just enough to look at whoever is sitting on the visitor's chair. Ah.  
  
Changmin is there, his dark gaze focused on you. You expect anger, but there's only deep sorrow. Why? There are dark bags under his eyes, making him look older (not that you would ever tell him). He holds your gaze, studying your face. It doesn't last; after a minute or so, he looks away.  
  
"Hi," he greets you, his voice soft. "Your dad was here earlier. He said you've woken up a few times in the past couple of days, but you go back to sleep almost immediately."  
  
He pauses. Does he expect a reply? Unfortunately, you have none to give, and no strength to offer it, either.  
  
"It's been five days since… since you…" He stops; he wets his lips then presses them together, as though searching for an appropriate way to phrase whatever he wants to say. "Since we found you." Found you? "At the beach. Finding your car wasn't hard, but you… We couldn't find you." His eyes fill with tears. Now that you're looking at him, you see his red-rimmed eyes, the tear tracks on his face. He rubs at his eyes (is he tired?).  
  
"They- _We_ found you by chance," he continues. "You weren't breathing, so Yunho gave you CPR. He saved your life." His voice breaks on that last word. "Somehow, we managed to bring you here. It's kind of a blur, to be honest." He sighs. "Your dad told me they've found no evidence of brain damage. He's really nice, by the way. Your dad."  
  
Someone speaks, but you can't make out the words. Changmin replies, as though answering a question. He sighs, turning his attention back to you.  
  
"Yunho's coming back tomorrow," he says. "He went back to work. He managed to get a couple of days off. He said it was a family emergency. I did, too. It's not a lie, is it?" His lips widen in a wry smile. "Junsu has been beside himself with worry. Hyukjae, too." Changmin pauses, his brow furrowing in thought. "I…" Once again, he looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He glances down, his lips becoming a tight line.

"Whatever led you to this, I'm so sorry, Yoochun." Tears slip out and run down his face. You feel nothing, though, no pain or guilt. His voice breaks as he continues.  
  
"I don't know why you disappeared or why you chose not to talk to me or Junsu or Yunho. And I won't ask, either. Just…" He pauses, sniffling. "I'm your _friend_. That will never change. Whenever you're ready, or whenever you want to talk about anything at all, please call me or text me. _Please._ I don't know if I'm strong enough to go through this again."  
  
A part of you wants to answer his request right away. The other wants to keep those memories under a tight lid. (Your chest already hurts enough.)  
  
"Shit," Changmin mutters. "I'm rambling." He smiles sadly. "I'm glad you're awake, and I hope you're okay." You think you smile, because he glances at your lips and his own widen in a more genuine smile. Your gazes meet and hold steady, at least until your eyelids feel heavy again. "Rest if you're tired," he says, his voice softening.  
  
As if a switch has been thrown, you close your eyes and fall deeply asleep.

  
**Title: Above**  
  
 _"So, what do you say?"_  
  
Days have passed since you were brought to the hospital near death. All kinds of recommendations are offered: exercise, a healthy diet, support groups, even the names and numbers of a few psychologists and psychiatrists, along with a referral. You haven't admitted that you were trying to end your life, why open that can of worms? You're alive, you're getting better; that's all that matters.  
  
Yunho and Changmin have visited as much as they can. They tell you about Junsu and Hyukjae, plus their own lives, their future plans. They try to ask you about your own, but you've yet to make any decisions. Your mind is nowhere and everywhere; thinking isn't really an option.  
  
"He needs to recover before he can think about any of that," your father tells the couple one time.  
  
Today, your friends have gone back to the city. The doctor has finally decided that you can be discharged. Your father, bless his heart, has been taking care of all of the particulars. You're still in bed, connected to the machines monitoring your lungs and heart, when he comes back into your room. He smiles at your sight.  
  
"Everything is signed," he tells you, cheerfully. "You still need to sign a couple of documents and that's it." He sits on the chair and grabs a banana from a bunch Yunho brought you last time. He looks away while eating, clearly choosing his words carefully before saying anything. Just as you will push him, he opens his mouth.  
  
"What will you do?" he asks. "Will you go back to the city?"  
  
To the city… To _him_. Your employers tried to be supportive over your hospitalization, but they couldn't accept your lack of communication. The apartment is still there, though your friends have been paying the rent in your stead.  
  
"I don't want to go back," you admit. Your father glances at you. "I… I don't want to be there." Near _him_ , near the places that continue to hurt you despite the distance.  
  
"You're welcome to move in with me," he offers after a couple of minutes. "Your room is still there. I know you have savings, and so do I." He finishes the banana and regards you seriously. "You need time to heal, son. That means getting plenty of rest, getting a new specialist. Taking a break from working. I won't have you getting sick unnecessarily." He pauses. "So, what do you say?"  
  
You have to fight to keep a smile off your face. Your father is a serious man, but he truly loves you, you had never realized just how much until the past two weeks.  
  
  
  
Yunho and Changmin continue to be amazing friends, bringing your things from your apartment over during the next two weeks.  
  
"That's what friends are for," Yunho told you when you thanked them and apologized for being so useless.  
  
The doctor said you would be feeling weak for a few days; you still do (you aren't sure whether it's your lungs or the intense sadness you feel right now). You can't do much when it comes to carrying boxes and suitcases, but you organize as much as you can (and throw away anything you neither want nor need).  
  
Changmin decides to organize your closet, much like he used to back when you lived together. You were always the neat freak, and you're sure you'll change it up after he leaves, but you're grateful, nonetheless. He takes care with every piece of clothing and places them where you would. Meanwhile, you sit on the bed, filling your dresser with folded underwear and socks, t-shirts, and shorts.  
  
"This closet is bigger than I expected," Changmin remarks after twenty minutes or so of working silently. You had good salaries in your previous two jobs, so you could afford bigger apartments with comfortable closets. Your parents lived on a much tighter budget, and it shows.  
  
"I never had this many clothes back when I lived here," you tell him. He smiles, if only for a moment. He takes a deep breath, his back to you again.  
  
"The apartment is almost empty," he tells you. "Only the large furniture is left. Did you email the building about it, yet?"  
  
"Yeah. If it's in good condition, they'll leave it there and let the new tenants decide if they want to keep it. You and Yunho are welcome to take anything you like."  
  
"Nah, we're fine." His shoulders droop, though. "Do you think you'll ever come back?" His voice is so low you barely hear him.  
  
"I don't know," you admit. "Maybe. Right now, though…"  
  
His back to you, he nods once, before going back to his task.  
  
  
  
They make maybe one more trip and then they return home. You feel empty as they drive away.  
  
"Come on," your dad says. "Let's go to the store."  
  
The sense of normalcy you get as you walk into the grocery store and do your shopping is unsettling. You don't mind it, though. There's something _real_ to it all. Yes, you're exhausted; yes, your body hurts (as well as your heart). Discussing the pros and cons of one brand over another is as mundane as it gets, yet you don't think you've felt happier in years.  
  
"Should we buy something for dinner?" your father asks while looking at the fish. You look around.  
  
"Let's eat out somewhere," you suggest. He looks surprised but smiles and nods.  
  
"Let's go, then." You pay for groceries and you walk out, side by side.

**Title: Good**  
  
 _"What else do I need?"_  
  
It takes you a while to get used to the silence, but you manage. Your hometown is nothing like Seoul: no loud, constant noise from cars, no unbearably crowded streets. In a way, the town seems emptier than when you were younger (you think it's better that way). The older women in your neighborhood recognize you and make conversation. How are you? (Fine.) Are you married, yet? (They smile knowingly when you say no.) Do you have a job?  
  
Every once in a while, you'll run into old classmates. Some of them have families, while others seem to be living fairly relaxed lives in comparison. Everyone looks happy to see you (no one remarks on how thin you are or that you look like death, but that's fine by you).  
  
For now, you're taking a bit of a break. You found a job at a small advertising company. They're mostly web based, and you do anything that's needed, from copywriting to data entry or coffee runs. It's only a few hours a day, but it's fulfilling and enjoyable.  
  
The rest of your day is spent reading books at home or the beach, or just listening to music if you feel like it. You thought your father would criticize you for taking it easy for so long, but he has been incredibly supportive.  
  
"You take as long as you need," he has told you several times after you accepted his offer to come live with him. "Take your time and heal properly."  
  
It has only been a few months, though; you're sure he'll change his mind eventually.  
  
Your friends have been just as supportive.  
  
"Don't be a stranger," Junsu tells you every couple of weeks. "Remember we're here for you."  
  
Yunho texts, as well, mostly asking after your wellbeing. You're still thinking about your next steps, and you tell him so. You tell him about your life now, about how slow and boring it is. Sometimes you confide in him after your visits to the psychiatrist. It has been a few months since you started treatment for clinical depression. The pills make you tired; it's difficult to concentrate sometimes. Even so, you want to get out of bed again.  
  
"Stick to the treatment," Yunho encourages you.  
  
In the evenings, you make dinner for yourself and your father. When he comes home, you eat together. He has been talking about retirement, about taking his savings and moving to a tropical island. You ask him about his plans.  
  
"Beautiful women and drinking all day. What else do I need?" he jokes.  
  
After dinner, he joins you for a while and you watch television together. He laughs at the comedies you enjoy, making you feel, if only for a couple of hours, like you're not utterly alone.  
  
You go to bed around nine o'clock, but you rarely fall asleep immediately. First, you take your sleeping medication. Yet, despite the miraculous effects the brand's website promises, nothing happens for minutes on end. You're tired—exhausted, really—but no amount of sleep is ever enough. (Every morning you wonder if you will ever wake up feeling rested again.)  
  
The next day is usually a repeat of the previous one, almost point by point. Nevertheless, you're fairly happy. You have everything you need: food, a job, tranquility, life (or a good imitation of one).

  
**Title: Vision**  
  
 _"Are you sure you're ready?"_  
  
Sunday afternoon catches you sorting laundry while watching a movie on TV. It's nothing interesting, just a Sci-Fi flick about a zombie apocalypse. You've never loved horror, but you remain seated, your gaze glued to the screen and mesmerized by all the violence and suspense. Every ten minutes or so, you realize your hands have stopped moving. Your attention shifts again halfway through folding another shirt.  
  
"No!" a man shrieks in pain as a chunk of his neck is bitten off, blood spraying everywhere. You automatically reach up as though to check that your neck is still there. This thing is going to give you nightmares, but you don't turn it off or change the channel. It's not like your father is there to remind you about the last time you watched a scary movie.  
  
"You need to sleep," he told you after the second night you were plagued by nightmares and insomnia. The memory makes you chuckle. Ugh, you should really turn it off, but it's so damn entertaining. _Just ten more minutes._  
  
Today is the first time you have the house to yourself in weeks. Your father has surprised you by being overprotective since you moved back in, making sure to tell you about his plans and checking up on you. That was never a thing back when you were in high school. He worries, perhaps more than he should, about our mood and your eating habits and whether you're enjoying work. You love him, but, sometimes, you hate to admit, it can feel suffocating.  
  
"He loves you," Junsu said one day. You weren't complaining about it—Junsu has a tense relationship with his own father, so it's hardly appropriate—but you couldn't help mentioning it. Unsurprisingly, your best friend thinks it's sweet. Nevertheless, he takes it as another opportunity to try to convince you to move back to the city. "It's been a year," he complained. "Aren't you bored there, yet?"  
  
No, you aren't bored (folding laundry does get tedious after a while and you'd rather focus on the murdering zombies right now, but, well, someone needs to do it). While it's true that you aren't happy, you aren't miserable, either. So, what if there isn't much to be excited about? You don't need excitement right now; you need space to heal, and you tell him so every single time he brings it up.  
  
"It can't be easy, though," Yunho remarked during one of your frequent conversations. You speak once every couple of weeks, sometimes more. He's been keeping an eye on you ever since… _that_ happened. Given your history, you could have never imagined that he would now be one of your closest friends. "You led such a busy life and now you work part time. Surely it must feel strange."  
  
It does. For one, you don't have the energy you used to have back then. Waking up early is a struggle (the sleeping medication probably doesn't help, leaving you groggy for hours on end), which is why you're happy you found a job that allows you to come in after nine in the morning. Eating properly has always been an issue ("You lost weight again!" you remember Changmin telling you the last time he and Yunho came visit.); you don't think you'll ever gain enough weight to make everyone around you happy, including your mother.  
  
"You should stay with me a few days," she invited you the last time you took her out for dinner. Now that you live a town away, you can drive over and see her if you feel like it. "Maybe I'll finally get you to go on a date with that girl I was telling you about."  
  
The idea of dating has absolutely disappeared from your mind. You avoid talking or even thinking about it.  
  
Oh, crap, the protagonist is about to get killed. You don't know if you can bear to watch. And his wife is looking on, her face a mask of horror. Ew. No.

You change the channel and go back to folding.  
  
  
The sun is going down when your phone goes off with a notification. Upon checking, you see you have a new email. You're lying in bed, resting sleepily, so you try to ignore it. However, you notice the sender is an old coworker you haven't spoken to in years and can't help but be curious.  
  
His opening line is far more formal than your business communications ever were—he's slightly older than you and he was especially friendly whenever you interacted—and, after a short introductory paragraph, he goes straight to the point.  
  
"My company is establishing a branch in California," he explains. He works for a successful social marketing company and he wants your expertise. He wants to bring you along with other experts in marketing, social media, and technology.  
  
You sit in bed and blink a few times. It has been years since you have spoken to anyone from the job you abandoned back then. All you really remember from that time was a general feeling of exhaustion, constant stress, plus worrying about _him_ … No, you don't want to think about that period in your life; it feels so far away (thank god). You find his contact information and call him before you lose your nerve.  
  
"Hi!" he greets you happily. He sounds just like he did all those years ago, a reliable, jovial colleague who worked in computer systems and website maintenance. Almost immediately, he tells you all about the company and the project. They have rented a whole floor in a building just outside San Francisco and they are now in the process of hiring staff.  
  
"They've already decided on which executives to send," he says. "It's only a few people. They've been looking for a marketing research expert and I immediately thought of you. I told them you're one of the best!" He clearly remembers several of the campaigns you coordinated, your research strategies, and how you worked with the advertising department to bring wildly successful campaigns to life. "We could really use you."  
  
The man knows how to stroke an ego, you think as you listen. Several questions pop up with each word he utters. Where exactly are they establishing the agency? Who else is joining the venture? When are they moving there? How much would you be earning?  
  
"You're fluent in English, plus you have international contacts," he goes on. "The company's ready to make you an offer."  
  
The conversation ends with you promising to give him a call if you have any other questions. That night, you sleep on it, imagining a life on the other side of the world.  
  
  
The conversation continues along several days. You listen to every detail and read every document he emails you. You also conduct your own research on the agency itself and the probability of success in the geographical area they have chosen. Once you get their initial offer, it becomes increasingly clear this is _not_ an opportunity you want to ignore.  
  
Only months ago, you were at the end of your rope. Even now, after many therapy sessions and antidepressants, you've yet to shake off the negative feelings that threatened to drown you. Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night with cold sweats. Along with your daily, quiet life, they're part of a routine that's getting old quickly.  
  
 _What have I got to lose?_

  
"I'm going to accept a job abroad," you tell your father one evening after dinner. His brow furrows in worry. The past few months have been filled with general peace. Maybe you aren't the happiest you've ever been, but you've been satisfied, and it shows. Likely because of that, your father looks almost shocked by your sudden decision.  
  
"Abroad?" he asks. You nod. "Where?" He listens quietly as you explain the offer and the commitment the agency has already made after looking at your résumé, a few phone calls, and a Skype interview. Your father drinks from his glass. "That all sounds very good, but…your health… Are you sure you're ready for such a… _drastic_ change?"  
  
You know he's worried, but you also know it's time to move on. That you're thin and look less than healthy, well, that's something you'll need to work on. Your life the past few months feels like a necessary pause. Now you're ready to continue.  
  
He continues to fret, so you ask about work, about his friends and that attractive lady he has been dating the past few weeks. Somehow you manage to distract him enough. Dinner ends up being a pleasant affair.  
  
Afterward, you do the dishes while he drinks and watches some television. Hopefully, you have averted a crisis. There are many reasons why you should work outside the country rather than stay home and close to your loved ones. Your health has improved considerably. More than anything, you need to move on; you don't want to continue feeling stuck in time.  
  
With that in mind, you go to bed. That night, you fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.  
  



End file.
